


The Wolf, the Dragon, and the Rose

by mithrilstarlight



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Rhaegar won, Arranged Marriage, F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-02-16 06:21:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 24,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13048296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mithrilstarlight/pseuds/mithrilstarlight
Summary: Rhaegar won at the Trident. The condition for pardoning the rebels was to take a child from each family hostage. Sixteen years later, he was overthrown by an alliance of the great houses. Sansa, Margaery, and Daenerys were married off to fulfill the terms of the alliance. But they are not the meek and mild maids their families assumed them to be. They know the power they wield and they will use it.--Rhaegar Wins AU. Robb and Sansa are twins because Timeline Things.ATTN: This fic is on semi-permanent hiatus. It will eventually be finished. Once I actually figure out how to get from where the story is to my desired ending.





	1. prologue

Rhaegar Targaryen struck down Robert Baratheon at the Trident. Bloodied and battered, the prince cried victory. The rebellion was over. Eddard Stark was taken prisoner and brought back to King’s Landing. Hoster Tully and Jon Arryn would fight no more.

Rhaegar had left the city a prince, but returned a king. Ser Jaime Lannister of the Kingsguard had killed Rhaegar’s father King Aerys II Targaryen. Kingslayer, he was called, as he was banished from Westeros. Never mind that he had saved the entire city.

Rhaegar believed himself wiser than his father. Mercy is wise, he claimed. But caution was even wiser. He did not have the means to replace half of the great houses in his kingdom. He would instead make them an offer they couldn’t refuse.

Rhaegar pardoned the rebels, allowing them to live. His condition was that each house, rebellious or not, would send one child to become his guest at court. He didn’t have to say the word hostage to make his point clear. The children would be payment for treason.

Rhaegar never saw his Lady Lyanna again. Nor did he ever see Arthur Dayne again. Eddard claimed no knowledge of his sister’s disappearance. Whether she had gone willingly or not, Rhaegar vowed to kill Arthur if he ever stepped foot in Westeros again.

Elia Martell lost her son Aegon to a fever only months after he was born. Rhaegar wouldn’t look at her for weeks. But she did gain children in the hostages, including her own nephew Quentyn. She pitied them, but she loved them even more.

Elia Martell and Rhaella Targaryen raised the children as their own. Margaery Tyrell and Sansa Stark became handmaidens to Rhaenys and Daenerys. Renly and Viserys played big brothers to Quentyn and Lancel. It would be a long time before the children knew what they really were.

Elia Martell watched the kingdom descend into dissatisfaction at her husband’s hands. She was not deaf to rumors at court of his eventual demise. She couldn’t blame the great houses for their anger. He had offended even his allies.

Elia Martell was warned of the second rebellion. Her brother Doran wrote that the houses wanted and end to Rhaegar’s neglect and the return of their children. Viserys was to be crowned. It stung that her daughter was being overlooked, but this was not Dorne.

Elia Martell waited sixteen years for the great lords to march upon his doorstep, demanding justice for a second time. With no allies left, Rhaegar was overthrown and the young Viserys III Targaryen was crowned king that day.

But the Great Alliance had its price. On the same day, three weddings took place in the Great Sept of Baelor. King Viserys III Targaryen wed Margaery Tyrell. Robb Stark, heir to the North, wed Princess Daenerys Targaryen. Willas Tyrell, heir to the Reach, wed Sansa Stark.


	2. a wolf sacrificed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lords marched upon the city and executed Rhaegar. Sansa is one of the girls married off for the sake of the alliance. She may not have Daenerys's fury, but Willas isn't exactly what she'd imagined.

Sansa was sitting in the sewing circle when the city bells first rang. She looked to Margaery on her right, who shrugged. There wasn’t anything special about today that would warrant city-wide bells. Daenerys was already out of her seat and at the window.

“Goldcloaks are everywhere,” Daenerys whispered as Sansa and the rest of the young ladies in the room walked up behind her. Dany wasn’t lying. The streets were filled with soldiers, all running towards the Gate of the Gods, like glittering golden streams flowing into a river.

Sansa swallowed deeply and took hold of Dany’s elbow. “What do you think is happening?” she asked, turning to look at Rhaenys.

The elder girl didn’t have a chance to answer before Queen Elia entered. They jumped at the sound of the door opening. “Come, girls.”

Rhaenys was right on her mother’s heels as they wound their way through the halls and to the deeper, more protected parts of the keep. “Mother, what’s going on? Are we under attack? What-”

“Quiet, Rhaenys,” Elia said sharply.

Sansa bit her lip. The queen was never that stern unless they were in trouble. Sansa reached out for Margaery’s hand as they walked, intertwining their fingers and squeezing.

“In here,” Elia said, ushering the girls into a small room overlooking the harbor. “Be patient, this will be over soon.”

Daenerys shared a look with Sansa. Did the queen know what was going on? Sansa looked up at Queen Elia, watching her every expression as she settled into a seat. The queen was impossibly calm for someone whose kingdom was apparently under attack. This was not a normal siege.

Sansa leaned over to Daenerys, pulling the girl close to whisper. “She knows what’s happening,” Sansa said.

Dany rolled her eyes. “Yes, I gathered that. If we’re not in any danger, why did she bring us back here?”

Hours passed as they sat in the little room. Sansa was next to the window, staring out at the waves as they lapped against the rocky cliff below. The keep was unusually quiet for being under attack, but the bells outside still rung.

As sunset approached, the door to the room opened. The queen stood and met the soldier at the door. He was dressed in Martell colors and bore the Martell sun on his chest. They shared a short, whispered conversation and then the queen turned to the rest of them.

“Come. It’s time,” she said.

Rhaenys stood, fists clenched. “Tell us what’s going on, mother. Where are we going? Time for what?”

Elia took hold of her daughter by the side of her face. “Don’t ask questions. Trust me.” Sansa’s stomach knotted. “There is nothing you girls can do, so it’s best you simply accept what’s about to happen.”

Sansa watched as Rhaenys paled and then backed down. The queen led them to the throne room. As the little door opened, Sansa was met with the sight of practically every lord in the kingdom packed into the room. She looked up at the empty throne. Viserys was standing at the foot of the iron monstrosity, but King Rhaegar was nowhere in sight.

The queen led them to an open spot up near the front with the rest of the court ladies. Sansa stood shoulder to shoulder with the other girls. On the far side of the room she spotted the Stark retinue. A young man with auburn hair like her own held the grey and white banner. It was Robb. She had never seen her brother before, but even if they weren’t twins she’d know him anywhere. For a second she wanted to run to him. Sixteen years and she’d never met her family. She continued scanning the room for her father, but couldn’t pick him out from the rest of the lords.

“Where is Rhaegar?” Margaery whispered as the lords began to address the crowd.

Sansa shushed her friend as the room quieted. “I don’t know, but they might,” she said.

Tywin Lannister walked up the first couple of steps to the throne, elevating himself above the crowd. He was an impressive figure, especially in his red and gold armor.

“Lords and ladies of the court, King Rhaegar is dead.” A chilling silence swept through the room. “He has been executed for his crimes against the kingdom, including the murder of Robert Baratheon.”

Sansa looked over her shoulder at Rhaenys, who was now as stone-faced as her mother. She turned back to the room as Tywin continued.

“Prince Viserys has been named Rhaegar’s heir,” he said. Applause swept the room. Viserys was well-liked. He was intelligent and handsome, although Sansa knew that didn’t make someone fit to be king. Rhaegar had been both of those and he was dead at the hands of the his own lords.

“In addition, the alliance will be solidified tomorrow with the agreed-upon marriages. Prince Viserys is to wed Lady Margaery Tyrell.” The portion of the room occupied by the court erupted into chatter and Margaery clutched Sansa’s arm.

“Sansa, did you hear? I’m to be _queen_.” Margaery said. The thought of it made Sansa’s stomach turn. Margaery couldn’t be the only one these lords had betrothed in secret.

A stern glare from Lord Tywin hushed the court. “Princess Daenerys Targaryen is to wed the young Lord Robb Stark and Lady Sansa Stark is to wed Lord Willas Tyrell.”

Sansa swayed as she heard her name, and this time it was she who clutched Margaery’s arm. The girl was still giddy with excitement, chattering about how they were to be sisters now. Sansa looked over to the green and gold Tyrell banners. There was a young man standing beneath leaning on a cane and dressed in court finery. She met his gaze and her face went hot. He seemed unfazed by the announcement, but also not thrilled. Did he have a say in this?

Sansa’s stare was broken as she was pulled away by the other girls. Whatever else Lord Tywin had said, it was lost in the noise of Sansa’s racing thoughts.

* * *

Sansa was curled up in Daenerys’s bed that night. Moonlight cast the room in a soft glow as they lay awake together. Daenerys hadn’t said a word all evening, unlike Margaery. The Tyrell girl had hardly stopped talking since the announcement.

“I’m going to murder her,” Dany whispered.

Sansa turned to face her friend. This was their last night as bedmates and the loss hung heavy in her heart. “Hm?”

“I’m going to murder Margaery if she doesn’t stop talking about how wonderful it is that she’s to be married to my brother. Or how wonderful it is that we’re all to be sisters. She’s not the one being sent away to the far reaches of the kingdom, married to some lordling she doesn’t know a single thing about.” Daenerys’s voice turned bitter at the end, her face screwed up in anger as she looked over to Sansa. “You and I were _sold_ for this stupid alliance. This isn’t fair.”

“No, it’s not,” Sansa whispered. She watched as Dany’s face slowly softened into sadness.

“I’m going to miss you,” Dany said, reaching out to take Sansa’s hand.

Sansa smiled, squeezing her friend’s hand. She slowly exhaled, mulling over the situation. “At least my brother is handsome,” she said.

Dany rolled her eyes. “He’s your twin, of course he’s handsome.” They both laughed and then went silent again. “Promise you’ll write?”

Sansa nodded, pulling Dany in close and stroking her hair. “Of course.”

* * *

Dawn broke and Sansa was woken by Dany’s gentle shaking. “The servants are here with breakfast.”

It was a quiet meal. One glare from Dany had silence Margaery on the topic of the day’s events, and Sansa was thankful for it. Dany was right about what she’d said the night before. Margaery was lucky.

The girls were split up into separate rooms for their wedding preparations. Sansa was ushered into a bath that smelled heavily of lavender as others brought in a lavish gown of white and grey. It occured to Sansa that their fitting not a moon’s turn beforehand wasn’t just for some new court gowns. The queen knew that this was coming. Sansa’s mouth turned bitter as she realized the queen had lied to them for so long about this. She loved Elia like a mother, but this hurt.

The gown fit perfectly, of course. As much as it felt like a prison, Sansa admired the flowing silk and velvet stitched up with tiny pearls. It was the most beautiful gown she’d ever worn. Another handmaiden brushed out Sansa’s hair and wove a crown of white roses into her red curls.

A knock on the door sent the handmaidens running. The queen entered and walked up to Sansa, motioning for her to spin.

“You look beautiful, Sansa.” The queen paused for a moment, her face turning from a soft smile to sadness. “I’m very sorry about this, my dear. I wanted to tell you girls, but we couldn’t risk any rumors of this getting to court.” Elia stepped forward and embraced Sansa.

“I know,” Sansa whispered, closing her eyes tightly to hold back the tears.

Elia pulled back and then took Sansa’s hand. “Are you ready? Margaery and Daenerys are already on their way down to the litter.”

Sansa nodded and followed the queen to the front of the keep. She stepped up into the litter and sat next to Daenerys.

Dany’s dress was made of red and black silk, her house colors, and was in stark contrast to Margaery’s green and white. Sansa took Dany’s hand as they began their journey to the sept. Margaery was silent, although Sansa was sure that it was due to a threat of murder on behalf of Dany.

Sansa looked out the window of the litter at the crowded streets. The entire city was overflowing with people, more so than usual with how many visitors were present. She could see the Great Sept of Baelor in the distance. She had always dreamed of being wed to a handsome lord in that sept. She hadn’t supposed it would come as such a surprise, though. From what little she had seen of Willas in the throne room yesterday, he seemed handsome enough. Margaery had received letters from her family over the years, and her grandmother had always spoken highly of Willas.

The littler slowed to a halt at the foot of the steps leading up to the sept’s entrance. Sansa took a deep breath, and then stepped out. She was met by her father. He looked unusually solemn for the occasion.

“Sansa,” he said, reaching out to brush her cheek gently. “You look wonderful.”

Sansa blinked back tears as she embraced her father. She was to be sent off to Highgarden immediately after the wedding. Would this be the only time she’d get to see her own father? What about her mother? She choked back a sob.

“I’m sorry, Sansa. I wish we had more time,” he whispered.

He released her and she took a deep breath. “I’m ready,” she said, holding her head high.

“You look so much like your mother,” he said as he took her arm and guided her up the stairs. “I think I was the frightened one at our wedding, though.” Sansa chuckled at the thought.

They entered the sept behind Daenerys and Queen Rhaella. A shiver ran up Sansa’s spine as she saw Willas standing between the statues of the Father and Mother. He wore the same blank expression as yesterday. The only one of the three standing there who was visibly happy about the occasion was Viserys. Of course he was happy. He was about to be crowned king of Westeros, as well.

The ceremony began and Sansa took a deep breath. Up close Sansa realized just how much Willas looked similar to Margaery. They were siblings, after all. He had soft brown curls and golden-brown eyes. Sansa wished that he’d show some sign of emotion. Was she to marry a statue?

Just beyond Willas stood Margaery and Viserys. They were both grinning, barely able to contain themselves. Sansa rolled her eyes and looked beyond them to meet eyes with Daenerys. The princess tilted her head towards Margaery and then rolled her own eyes. Sansa bit her tongue to keep from laughing.

When it came time for the cloaks to be exchanged, Sansa’s stomach roiled. Her father removed the Stark cloak. It occurred to Sansa that while she had the Stark name, she didn’t know if she really was one. She’d never known her family or Winterfell. A year from now Dany would be more of a Stark than Sansa ever was, she thought. The same could be said of herself and Margaery, though.

Sansa’s attention snapped back to the ceremony as Willas clasped the heavy green and gold cloak around her shoulders. His fingers lingered on the clasp for a moment, and he glanced up to meet her stare. For a moment she hated him. He was still expressionless. It was his own wedding, and he couldn’t even manage a smile? They didn’t love each other, and maybe never would. But he could at least have the decency to appear happy about this.

They each stated their vows, and then Willas gently took hold of her, pulling her for the kiss. He tasted sweet, and Sansa went dizzy for a moment. A few squires here and there had stolen kisses from her while their lords were at court. But this was more than that. When he pulled away, she exhaled deeply, biting her lower lip as she looked up at him. He didn’t appear to be as affected as she was, and her heart dropped. He truly didn’t care.

* * *

Sansa took her seat at the feast hungrier than she had ever been. The nerves of the morning had prevented her from eating more than a bite or two. Willas was courteous, and gave her one dance at the beginning of the banquet. She wondered if that was all he could manage with his leg. Margaery didn’t know much about his injury other than it was a long time ago during a tourney.

Viserys and Margaery danced frequently. And when they were seated, they were almost always holding each other’s hand or feeding each other. It made Sansa sick. She loved Margaery, but she could’ve at least pretended to be upset about being forced into a marriage with no warning. Robb and Daenerys hardly spoke, much like herself and Willas.

Four courses in, Robb stood and approached her. “Sister,” he said with a bow. “May I have a dance?”

Sansa nodded excitedly and stood, not even thinking to consult Willas. Robb led her down to the main floor as the couples took their positions.

“You look lovely, Sansa,” Robb said.

Her face went hot and she smiled. “Thank you,” she said. “I wish that we had more time to get to know each other. I have so many questions about Winterfell and our parents.”

Robb laughed. “When father first said that we were going to King’s Landing, I thought it was to bring you home. Or at least to visit. I wasn’t told that I was marrying the princess until a few days out from the city when we met up with the other lords and the true mission was explained.”

“Are you at least happy to wed Daenerys?”

“It’s my duty. Does it matter if I’m happy?”

His response caught Sansa off guard. She had always imagined being happy at the notion of marrying someone. Even if she hadn’t chosen to marry Willas and even though he seemed indifferent, she was happy. “I suppose it should,” she started. “You may not have had a choice in the marriage, but you can choose to be happy.”

Robb shrugged. “I guess.” He paused. “You should probably tell the princess that.”

It was Sansa’s turn to laugh. “Daenerys will warm up to you eventually,” she said with a smile. “Just as I hope Willas will warm up to me.”

Sansa sat down and took a large gulp of her wine. The banquet was almost over, which meant the bedding was drawing near. Her stomach turned, and for a second Sansa was worried she’d be sick. It wasn’t going to be awful, she hoped. Willas was known as a kind and gentle man. Even if he was distant.

Cheers erupted and Sansa tensed. Had her thoughts summoned the moment? Willas looked over at her, and for a moment it almost looked like he was pitying her. Sansa was pulled from her chair by a group of young knights. They began to paw at her, pulling at the laces of the dress and yanking the roses from her hair. Sansa was sure she’d be sick as they practically carried her to a bedchamber. She was thrust into the room, dress half undone and shaking. Willas was quick to follow, shirt off and probably somewhere in the hallway.

Sansa stood in the center of the room, acutely aware of the cold air against her skin. She held the undone dress in place as Willas shut the door. She would be brave. She may not have grown up at Winterfell, but she was a Stark. And Starks were brave.

Willas sighed as he walked over, limping without his cane. He finished unlacing the dress and took it from her hands, letting it fall to the floor.

“How old are you?” he asked as he began to untie the laces of her corset.

Sansa looked over her shoulder, wishing he’d let go so she could turn to face him. “Sixteen years.” He said nothing. Did he think she was too young? Most girls at court were wed at sixteen. Were things different in the Reach?

The rest of her clothing dropped away and she began to shiver. She fought the urge to cover herself up and waited for him to make the next move.

“Are you scared?” he asked. He almost sounded concerned.

She turned, and this time he let her face him. There were only a few inches difference in their height, making it easy for her to look him in the eyes and keep a hold on his gaze. “No,” she said. Her voice was more confident than she was.

Willas reached up and stroked her cheek, still expressionless. Had she imagined the pity she’d seen before? He pulled her in enough to close the few inches between them and kissed her. It wasn’t as dizzying as the ceremony, but he was warm in comparison to the cold night air.

When they broke apart, he nodded for her to get on the bed. She laid back and waited as he removed his breeches. He then climbed onto the bed, leaning over her. For a moment he seemed to hesitate, and then settled on his side next to her. He kissed her again, his hand moving down her body. Her skin tingled where he made contact. His hand slipped between her legs, and she realized how warm it was there. His fingers brushed over her lightly at first, and then with more pressure. The dizzy feeling returned as he continued to kiss her. Her legs slowly parted more and he slipped a finger inside of her. She started. It felt different than she’d expected, but not terrible. He worked at her with the one, and then with two. Sansa began to wonder when he’d actually bed her.

He leaned back, taking his hand away. She realized then how much she wanted it back. It had felt so good? “Is everything okay?” she asked, propping herself up on her elbows as he settled onto his back.

“Because of my leg, you’re going to have to be on top of me. I’ll guide you,” he said, beckoning her to sit up.

Sansa sat up and he guided one leg over his torso so that she straddled him. He pushed himself up so that he sat upright and then took hold of her by the hips, guiding her on top of him. She held his shoulders for support.

“I did my best, but this will hurt a bit,” he said.

Sansa nodded. His tone was still emotionless, but his expression finally showed something. It was concern, but it was better than nothing. Sansa could appreciate concern.

He guided her down onto him, and she winced. He was right, it still ached, but it wasn’t the great pain other court ladies had spoken of. Willas groaned softly

“Are you okay?” he asked. She nodded, settling on him and trying to force herself to relax. This was what happened in the marriage bed.

Willas gently pushed her hips, rocking her back and forth. She got the idea, and started to move on her own. She watched his face intently as she did so. It may be sore for her, but he couldn’t hide how good it felt for him. She quickened her pace a bit as she got used to the rhythm, and his grip on her hips tightened. He moved a hand between them and began to stroke her again. Her first reaction was to seize up, which hurt. She grit her teeth and kept going.

A few minutes later, Sansa realized just how wet she was. Having him inside her no longer hurt, and actually began to feel good. His fingers were doing something magical, too. He pressed down a bit, and she heard herself moan. Willas took the other hand from her hip and pulled her in by the neck to kiss her again.

It was a messy kiss, and something in her belly tightened. She quickened her pace again, and the tightening grew. She could feel him breathing heavily beneath her.

Another few minutes later, the tight feeling hit a peak and she began to shudder, her vision going white with stars. She cried out as she shook. Willas began to shake beneath her as well and his warm, sticky seed filled her.

Panting, Sansa leaned her head against his shoulder. No one had warned her of _that_. Willas gently pushed her off of him, and she collapsed onto the bed, still breathing heavily. She looked over at him, but he had returned to being stone-faced and silent as he pulled the blankets up over him. She took that as her cue to do the same. She lay there on her back for a moment, waiting for him to do something else. When he didn’t, she curled up on her side facing away from him.

Sansa turned the experience over in her mind, staring at the night sky through the window. He may never love her, but he cared at least. That was enough for now.


	3. a dragon tamed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys is determined to let Robb know just how unhappy she is to be wed and parted from her home and companions. Despite this, he seems to still have a soft spot for her and it's infuriating.

Daenerys woke before dawn the morning after he wedding. She turned to look over her shoulder at her new husband. Robb was splayed out on the other side of the bed, barely covered by the blankets. What was a cool morning to her must be unbearably hot for him, she realized. It was a few months into autumn and King’s Landing was starting to grow cool at night. But even autumn here was probably warmer than the summers of the North. She had never experienced a true winter in King’s Landing, let alone the snowy wasteland in which Winterfell was built.

Sitting up, Dany wrapped herself in one of the thicker blankets. She walked over to the window and looked out at the keep in the pre-dawn glow. At the feast last night Robb told her that they’d be leaving for Winterfell immediately. She didn’t want to go. It was too soon.

The bedding replayed in her head as she noticed the dull ache between her legs. Robb had been dutiful. It was blessedly quick, but it hurt nonetheless. The septas said it would always hurt, that it was simply the curse women must endure. Queen Elia had said differently, though. Early in her marriage to Rhaegar she said that sex was something she found herself enjoying. It wasn’t until after Aegon was born and her health declined that it became painful again. Perhaps it was because that was when Rhaegar stopped loving her. Love was the key, Elia had said.

A warm hand on her shoulder startled Dany. She turned to see Robb, a few inches taller than herself, standing behind her. She could see so much of Sansa in his features. He may not be her, but he was close. She wouldn’t have to let go of Sansa completely.

“You’ll learn to love Winterfell,” he said, looking down at her with a hint of a smile.

Dany was silent for a moment, staring at him coldly before turning back to the city. Her skin tingled where he touched her. He was gentle, but he was still unwanted, no matter how nice the warmth of his body may be. “Perhaps,” she muttered, walking away from the window. She sat down at the small mirror and began to brush out her hair, anger boiling right beneath the surface as she tugged at each knot.

It was unfair. She hated the lords who simply decided this was what her life was to be. And yet she was now the daughter of one by marriage. Lord Stark had to be one of the instigators of this. Rickard and Brandon Stark’s deaths weren’t Rhaegar’s fault, so why did Rhaegar have to pay the price? The gods were cruel. Then again, she had never really taken much stock in the Seven. No Targaryen did. The Seven were merely statues when faced with a dragon.

A knock on the door heralded the arrival of septas and handmaidens to check the bed and help Daenerys get dressed. They put her into a new, simple dress of grey and black. It was high-collared to protect against the winds outside. Had Elia also ordered this weeks ago? Dany could curse the queen’s name. Instead she simply cursed the names of the lords who brought this to pass. Could they have not killed her brother and forced her to travel across the entire kingdom when it was still summer? She did her hair on her own, waving away the young handmaiden. Dany did a simple braid and then coiled it, pinning it to her head with a heavy silver dragon encrusted in rubies. Perhaps not the most travel-appropriate, but it had been a gift from Rhaegar on her last name day. She would not forget that she was a Targaryen at heart, so neither would they.

The breakfast was cold and light. There was no wheelhouse or comfort on this journey north. Daenerys would ride on horseback like the rest of the small army, which meant she ate like the rest of the army. She would also do without handmaidens until they reached Winterfell. There would be young women there to serve her, Lord Stark had said.

She watched as the septas packed up her belongings. Few of the dresses she had here would be warm enough for the North. Perhaps it was for the better. The less the horses had to carry, the faster they’d move. Dany didn’t enjoy the idea of sleeping in a tent for too long. As long as she brought her jewels and her finer pieces, she didn’t care what they left behind. It was the other girls here that she was loathe to leave behind.

Lord Stark was the one to collect them when it came time to leave. He was as solemn now as he was in the throne room two days before. She wondered if he ever smiled while sober. It was his own son’s wedding, and yet the only smile she’d seen grace his face was when he was drunk the night before at the feast. At least some had enjoyed themselves that night.

Robb put a hand on Daenerys’s back as they walked out. She knew he was attempting to be polite, but she still had half a mind to shrug him away. This was _her_ castle. She needed no guidance. Instead of murdering her husband then and there, she focused her gaze on Lord Stark in front of them. Even from behind he looked serious. Were all northmen like this? Perhaps it was the never-ending winters that made them so. She glanced to her husband. He wasn’t as serious, she thought. Perhaps it was his Tully features. But he still wore the same small frown as his father.

The Keep was eerily quiet as they wound through the halls. Most of the members of the court would still be asleep from the festivities of the night before.

Sansa and the Tyrell retinue were already in the courtyard preparing to leave. Daenerys spared no thought for her new family as she ran to Sansa. The tall redhead scooped Dany up in her arms immediately.

“Sansa, please don’t let them take me,” Danerys whispered, choking back tears. She clung to Sansa with desperation, digging her fingers into Sansa’s back.

Sansa chuckled, burying her head in Dany’s neck. “I could ask the same,” she said.

Danerys let go first and looked coldly back to the Starks. She ungracefully wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “I know they’re your family, but they’re not you,” she said. The hate dripped from her voice and she didn’t care. Sansa knew how angry this made Dany.

“At least Robb isn’t a far cry from me in looks, though,” Sansa said, laughing. “You can close your eyes and pretend he’s me.” Sansa reached out and brushed Dany’s cheek. “Just promise me that you’ll give him a chance?” Sansa cast a brief glance in Willas’s direction.

Daenerys’s fingers curled into fists, nails digging into her palms for a second. “For you, I will,” she said, exhaling deeply and releasing the tension. For someone who was leaving one prison for another, Sansa seemed too at peace. Then again, Sansa had always been better at making peace with an unfortunate situation than Dany had ever been.

Sansa looked up, smile fading from her lips. “Robb is coming. It’s probably time for you to leave.”

Robb bowed to his wife first, and then Sansa. “Ladies,” he said. Turning to Dany, he reached out and rest his hand on her shoulder. “Daenerys, we need to leave. We want to cover as much ground as possible before nightfall.” His hand lingered for a brief moment, squeezing gently before he walked back to the cluster of northmen.

Daenerys wanted to correct him. She wasn’t just Daenerys. She was Princess Daenerys Targaryen. Well, not to him, perhaps. He was her husband and he had the right to address her however he liked. She turned back to Sansa, realizing now that she was nearly of height with her brother.

“Please, Sansa,” Dany started. “I can’t leave King’s Landing. I can’t leave you.”

Sansa pulled Daenerys in once more, kissing her forehead gently. “I’ll write to you as soon as I reach Highgarden. Treat him kindly.” Sansa let go and then walked over to her own horse, mounting it and joining the Tyrells across the courtyard.

Daenerys stood there for a moment, caught between anger and sadness as Sansa rode off through the gate beside Willas. He didn’t deserve her.

Turning, she walked back to her brown mare she had been given to ride. Mounting, she settled in for the long ride.

They parted ways with the Tyrell retinue early on in the city. The Tyrells would head south for the River Gate, while the Starks, Tullys and Arryns would head north to the Dragon Gate. Perhaps it was fitting that they left through her family’s gate.

The city was more alive than the Keep had been. They passed by the Dragonpit on their way out of the city. Daenerys wished that she had a dragon. She could fly high above the city and burn these lords who killed her brother.

* * *

Robb barely spoke to her for the first week of their journey. He would ask how she was and if she was comfortable. She wondered if she scared him. Sansa’s request rattled around her head. Dany could treat him kindly without loving him.

It was eight days in, around the campfire in the evening, when he asked her the first personal question.

“What was Sansa like?” he asked.

The question caught her off-guard. He worked up all of that courage and it wasn’t even to know anything about his own wife. She swallowed her bitterness along with the stew and looked him square in the eyes. “She was kind. She believed in love and happiness above all else. Being sold off to the Tyrells was perhaps the worst thing that could’ve happened to her.” Robb visibly tightened his jaw. Was his instinct to defend the sale of his sister? She ignored his reaction and continued, voice as cold as ice. “She loved dancing and music. She could embroider better than any of the other ladies in court. She was perfect.”

Robb looked down, eating in silence. It was Lord Stark who spoke up in response.

“She sounds just like her mother. You will like Lady Catelyn,” Lord Stark said. He smiled softly, looking at his son. Robb returned the smile. A heaviness grew in Daenerys’s chest as she thought of her own mother. Queen Rhaella had been a good mother. She was quiet and gentle. Sansa and Margaery had taken after her in that way. Daenerys, despite being Rhaella’s daughter by blood, took after Elia more. The Martell queen was firm, like her family in Dorne. No Martell bent to the will of another. Daenerys and Rhaenys had turned out the same way.

Daenerys looked back to her her husband. Perhaps he would’ve been happier had he been given Margaery. She was sweet and would’ve made a more compliant wife. Even Margaery had her thorns, but that came with being simply a lord’s daughter at court. Daenerys was a princess. She had more power in her blood than Robb would ever possess.

“She’ll be happy to have you at Winterfell,” Lord Stark continued. “Karstark, Manderly, and Mormont will send a daughter each to be your companions, which will bring much-needed life to the place.”

Robb snorted a laugh. “Arya’s pretty lively, though. Not much of a lady, but she makes as much noise as any of us.”

A stern glare from Lord Stark quieted Robb down. He turned back to Daenerys with a small smile. “I’m sure Arya will be pleased to meet you, too.”

* * *

There was little in the way of large towns or keeps on their journey through the Crownlands and Riverlands. Much of the land here was fit for farming. The smallfolk were kind enough, offering the soldiers some food and supplies. Did they know why these men had marched south? By now news of the king’s death must have spread. Did these people not mourn the loss of Rhaegar, regardless of the type of king he was? Dany caught snippets of conversations between men in marketplaces as they passed through the towns. She realized that they simply didn’t care. Looking around, it was clear that _who_ sat on the throne didn’t matter to the lives of these people. They would still farm and raise cattle just the same. They lived simply.

They reached Harroway nearly a moon into their journey. Lord Roote offered them shelter for the night. The soldiers camped outside in the fields, but Daenerys and the lords were brought inside. The autumn wind was starting to bite and Dany pitied the men forced to sleep outside. Even within the small keep, it wasn’t much warmer.

Lord Roote served the nobles a hearty stew. It was better than what the soldiers themselves came up with, that was for sure. Daenerys ate quietly, listening to the drunken conversation of the lords around her. Even Lord Stark drank and laughed. This was the last night that many of them would be together. In the morning, Lord Edmure and the other river lords would turn west and continue along the River Road while the Vale lords would turn east and head into the mountains. She was starting to comprehend just how far away the North was.

When she finished her bowl, she excused herself, going upstairs to the little room that had been prepared for herself and Robb. She couldn’t bear to be around the men any longer. She missed the company of her ladies at court. They didn’t speak of gruesome deaths when drunk.

Not a few minutes later, Robb walked in. He was sober. She watched him nurse the same ale for the last hour. She undressed until she stood in nothing but her shift. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Robb stop and stare at her for a moment. He hadn’t bedded her since their wedding night. Even a few furs didn’t provide much comfort when sleeping on the dirt beside the kingsroad.

He did nothing, though, and turned back to his own undressing as she got into bed. She curled up on her side, facing away from where he would lay like every night. He blew out the candle and climbed in beside her, leaving several inches between like every night. She shut her eyes, willing herself to sleep.

“I’m sorry,” he said. She opened her eyes, frowning. Had she missed something? She was tempted to turn and look at him.

“I know I’m not the husband you wanted. Once we get to Winterfell I promise to do right by you. I want it to be your home as much as it is mine.”

She felt him shift and turn away from her. Sansa’s words echoed again. Be kind to him. Minutes felt like hours as she lay there. His breathing grew shallow and eventually turned into a soft snore. She turned to look at him. He didn’t deserve to be treated like this any more than Sansa deserved to be ignored by Willas. Dany had seen how he acted towards Sansa at the banquet.

Daenerys reached out, her pale hand hovering over Robb’s shoulder for a moment as she hesitated. What did she want to do? She slowly withdrew her hand, turning away from him again and curling her knees up to her chest.

* * *

Daenerys did not sleep more than a few hours that night. She lay beneath the furs, wondering if she wanted to cry or scream. When dawn broke, she was woken by Robb’s movement. The light hurt her eyes. She dressed herself and joined Robb in attending a small breakfast. Two more months of cold meats and bread for most meals was enough to make her sick. She missed the sweetmeats and fine wines of the city. Winterfell would have decent enough food. A Lord Paramount would not settle for less. Then again, Lord Stark was not a typical Lord Paramount.

By midday, the Riverlands and Vale forces had gone their separate ways, leaving only the couple hundred northerners to continue up the Kingsroad. Daenerys was starting to memorize who was whose bannerman, and even the names of some of the more vocal soldiers.

The first dusting of snow fell that afternoon. Daenerys was surprised by it at first. It wasn’t expected to snow in King’s Landing for another few months at least. The men didn’t slow, but Daenerys came to a stop and held out her hand. The tiny flakes landed in her hand, instantly melting. She smiled, closing her eyes to take in the first snow. She could learn to love this.

Opening her eyes, she looked back forward and saw Robb stopped several feet ahead of her. He was watching her, a smile on his own face. He seemed to be entertained by her reaction to the snow. Daenerys cleared her throat and looked down. She dug her heels into her mare, urging it into a canter. She passed her husband and returned to her position within the group. Her face grew hot as she thought about the way he had looked at her. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was perhaps in love with her.

The snow continued to fall through the evening, collecting on the cold ground. The wind picked up as the sun went down, and Daenerys’s fingers grew stiffer by the minute, even in her gloves. She shivered all through their dinner. The warmth of the stew did little for her, nor was the ale they carried strong enough to affect even her. She retreated quickly to her tent. She stripped off her outer layers, wasting no time before burying herself under the furs. They hadn’t even reached the Neck yet and she had half a mind to turn around and ride south as fast as possible.

She prayed to the gods that she wouldn’t freeze to death as Robb came in. He stripped off his own outer layers and then lay down beside her. She exhaled deeply, willing herself to be warm. She was a dragon and dragons didn’t freeze.

“Winterfell has hot water from the springs beneath piped through the walls, heating the entire keep. The entire place was built to withstand the rough Northern winters,” he said.

Daenerys turned to lay on her back, glowering at him. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“I’m saying you won’t be cold once we reach Winterfell,” he said flatly.

“Well, I’m cold now,” Daenerys muttered, turning away from him again. It frustrated her, that in a single day he could go from looking almost happy to have her to completely uninterested in the fact that she was miserable. The irritation built up in her chest until she could barely contain it. Sitting up, she looked down at him with borderline hatred in her eyes. “You’re infuriating,” she spat.

Robb was surprised by her reaction, and frowned. “You’re not exactly pleasant yourself,” he said, rolling on his side to face away from her.

Dany exhaled sharply through her nose. Reaching out, she yanked him back by the arm so that he faced her. She shifted onto her knees, towering over him. “I didn’t ask for this,” she said.

Something shifted in Robb’s expression and he sat up, his face inches from her own. He had a glare as spiteful as her own. “Neither did I, Daenerys. I’ve tried to do my duty, but nothing I do seems to be good enough for you.”

Daenerys blinked, surprised by his response. For a moment his Tully features hardened and he looked more like his father than she’d thought possible. She looked back and forth quickly between his two eyes. “Are you scared of me?” she whispered.

Robb’s jaw clenched. “Not in the slightest,” he said, breathing heavily.

She reached up, grabbing him by the back of the neck, and pulled him into a rough kiss. He melted into her immediately, his hands shooting to her sides. He gripped her tightly, guiding her as she swung one leg over to sit on his lap. He ran his hands up and down her sides.

His mouth moved away from hers and settled on her neck, leaving small bite marks as he traveled down to her collarbone. Heat grew between her legs and she felt him grow hard beneath her. She pulled off her shift and sent a hand down between her legs. She was already soaking wet with need.

In one swift movement, Robb wrapped an arm around her waist and flipped them over, laying her on her back. He undid his breeches and then entered her. This time it didn’t hurt. She moaned into his mouth as he continued to kiss her. He thrust into her repeatedly until she was screaming and shaking. When he was finished, his seed dripping from her, he collapsed around her, pulling her to him under the furs. She would not be cold tonight.


	4. a wolf among thorns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa arrives in Highgarden. It's more beautiful than she could've imagined and things would be perfect if only Willas could bear to look at her. Thankfully, it seems as though she's got most of the family on her side.

It was called the Rose Road for a reason. The Reach was the most beautiful of the seven kingdoms. As the Tyrells travelled, the air grew steadily warmer and trees went from bare to alive with color.

Sansa breathed deeply, soaking in the warm sunlight as they rode the last few miles to Highgarden. Turning to Lord Tyrell, she smiled. “I consider myself so fortunate to call such a beautiful place home, Lord Tyrell. Thank you,” she said. She learned quickly that if there was one thing Lord Tyrell liked, it was flattery. “From what you’ve told me, Highgarden must be the envy of all other castles in Westeros.”

Lord Tyrell chuckled. “Indeed, child. You will see it for yourself shortly. We’ve only a few miles left to go.”

The thought of finally arriving at their destination formed a heavy weight in Sansa’s stomach. On the road, Willas couldn’t run very far. They had little to occupy their days riding than conversation. At Highgarden, though, he would return to his duties as heir to the Reach. He was not the husband she had expected.

He wasn’t disrespectful, but he was clearly uninterested in her. He barely spoke, exchanging only the required daily pleasantries. Lord Tyrell, on the other hand, had done nothing but speak with her. For as disappointing as her husband was, at least her new father was amenable.

The small army reached the crest of the hill and on the horizon: Highgarden. Sansa slowed her horse, taking in the view. The castle was even more beautiful than Lord Tyrell had described. White towers capped in green and gold flags sprung up from behind white walls. Inside the outermost wall Sansa saw a maze of green.

“Welcome home,” Willas said as he rode past her, giving his horse a nudge to quicken the pace.

Sansa sighed, her smile fading. She gave her horse a swift kick and caught up with him. She brought her horse alongside his and looked over. He showed not signs of delight to be home. If she had to guess, she’d say he was _unhappy_ to see Highgarden. Clearing her throat, Sansa smiled and spoke. “You must be thrilled to return home, my husband. You must have missed being here among your family and people,” she said.

“I’m thrilled to no longer be on horseback night and day,” he said.

Sansa frowned. He didn’t even look at her. Putting her smile back on, she continued. “When we arrive you must show me the castle. Your father has told me much about the gardens, I’d love to-”

“I have business to attend to when we arrive, not to mention some much-needed rest,” he said, cutting her off. He looked over to her. “Perhaps one of the ladies could take you to the gardens.”

Sansa nodded. “Yes, my Lord,” she said. She gave her horse another kick and moved towards the front of the group. She grit her teeth, willing herself to not scream. Her husband may be as friendly as a horse’s ass, but if it meant being the lady of this paradise, she’d learn to live with it.

She approached the cluster of riders at the very front. Willas’s youngest brother, Loras, was in the lead. As Sansa joined him, he turned. “Welcome to Highgarden, dear sister,” he said with a grand wave of his hand. “Is it not the most wonderful sight?”

Sansa took a deep breath. “It’s much more elegant than King’s Landing, brother.”

“And cleaner,” he shot back with a laugh. Grinning, he adjusted his grip on the reins. “Come, let us be the first to herald our victorious return.” With a shout, he took off.

Sansa dug her heels into the horse, racing after him. Loras was so much like Margaery. He was lively and enjoyed the beauty of things above all else. The wind rushed past as she rode, her hair streaming behind her head like a red river. Sansa was on her new brother’s heels as they reached the front gate. They slowed as they entered the maze.

“Stay close, or we may never find you,” Loras called back to Sansa as they took several sharp turns in succession.

Her heart raced as she yanked the reins this way and that, winding her way closer and closer to the second wall. The second gate seemed to appear out of nowhere, and Loras picked up the pace again, racing through the white stone arch and into the lushest garden Sansa had ever laid her eyes on. Even in the autumn, the place was filled with ripe fruits and blossoming flowers. She stayed on Loras’s heels, climbing the straight path up to the third gate.

Shouts came from the wall above the final gate. _Ser Loras is returned_ , they said. As the final gate opened, it revealed an immaculate courtyard of white stone and ivy. Large columns surrounded the space and a large fountain displaying statues of the seven sat in the center. Sansa came to a stop, breathless as she looked up at the white towers.

“Brother!” a voice called. Sansa turned to see a man who looked startlingly like Loras, although much broader of shoulder, run down the steps to greet them. A dainty woman followed close behind.

Loras slid off his horse and immediately embraced the approaching man. “Garlan, you’re here.” The pair of brothers laughed as Garlan ruffled his younger brother’s hair.

Garlan turned to Sansa and held out his hand. “And you must be the Lady Sansa,” he said.

Sansa reached out and took his hand as she dismounted the horse. It was strange to stand on her own feet after such a race. She cleared her throat and curtseyed. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ser Garlan.”

Garlan pulled her into a hug. “Nonsense, Sansa, the pleasure is ours. And forget the titles, you are family!” He stepped back and gestured for the woman to step forward. “This is my wife, Leonette from House Fossoway.”

“Sansa, it is wonderful to meet you,” Leonette said, taking Sansa’s face in her hands and stroking her cheek. “You are so lovely, Willas must be thrilled to have a wife as beautiful as yourself.”

Sansa’s heart stopped for a second. How was she supposed to respond to a comment like that? Did she tell them the truth and say ill about her own husband? Or did she lie to her family?

“He’s so happy he can’t even look at her,” Loras said without missing a beat.

Sansa tensed as Garlan and Leonette looked from Loras to herself. Leonette recovered from the statement first, letting go of Sansa to hook arms with her. “He’s always been a quiet one, my dear. Don’t take it to heart.” She pulled Sansa towards the large doorway into the castle. “Come, we should get you cleaned up and then I can show you around. The inside is as much of a maze as the outside.”

Sansa nodded, exhaling deeply as she settled into a stride to match Leonette’s. She glanced back and watched for a moment as Garlan put his hand to his head, shaking it slowly.

* * *

Sighing deeply, Sansa slipped into the large stone bath the servants had prepared. Nearly two months of riding every day had taken a toll on her physically, but it was the permanent layer of dust that really bothered her. She inhaled another deep breath, soaking in the heavy floral aromas. Taking a cloth, Sansa scrubbed at her skin until it was pink. She was to meet the Lady Olenna Tyrell that evening at dinner and any trace of dirt was unacceptable. A handmaiden sat on the edge of the bath and helped Sansa with her back before scrubbing her scalp and hair with oils, working out the tangles.

The sun was low in the sky when Sansa emerged from the bath, skin raw but clean. She selected a deep green dress she had brought from King’s Landing. The silver embroidery along the hems was her own work. The handmaiden brushed out Sansa’s hair until it shone like the sunset outside.

Modesty was the key tonight, Sansa told herself. Lady Olenna’s reputation was well-known even in King’s Landing. If Sansa was to make a good impression, she would not carry herself too proudly. After all, she was lucky to be here.

Garlan and Leonette knocked at the door to the solar. Sansa closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Opening them, she put on a smile and answered the door.

“You look simply lovely, Sansa,” Leonette said, gently turning Sansa in a circle.

Sansa’s face reddened a shade. “Thank you, Leonette. I did the embroidery myself.”

Leonette gave a sly smile. “Beautiful and talented,” she said, nudging her husband. Turning back to Sansa, she beckoned her to follow. “Come, we’ll show you to the great hall for the dinner. Grandmother is looking forward to meeting the future Lady Tyrell.

The hallways of the castle were wide and beautifully decorated, but they wound in and around themselves almost as much as the maze outside. Courtyards and gardens were everywhere, many of them nearly identical to Sansa’s eyes. She would have to memorize every inch of this place the way she had the Red Keep.

Loss stabbed its way into Sansa’s chest as she thought about King’s Landing. She, Margaery, and Daenerys had been inseparable since birth. They may not have been related by blood, but they were sisters. Especially herself and Daenerys. Sansa wondered how her friend was faring. With winter quickly approaching, it would take them nearly six months to reach Winterfell.

Garlan opened the door and ushered the pair of women into the hall. It was alive with color and music. The entire room was decorated with flowers and the tables were piled high with sweet things and fruits on top of the food itself.

“Come,” Leonette said as she guided Sansa towards the front. “Come, you are to sit next to Grandmother.”

Sansa cleared her throat, heart racing as she was led to Lady Olenna. Leonette let go of Sansa’s arm and then curtseyed. “Grandmother, I would like to present to you Lady Sansa.”

Olenna reached out her hand. Sansa took it carefully as she curtseyed. “Lady Tyrell, it is an honor to meet you.”

Withdrawing her hand, Olenna gave a tight-lipped smile. “Thank you, child. Come and sit. We have much to discuss,” she said, gesturing to the empty seat. Turning to Garlan, Olenna frowned. “Where is Willas? Why wasn’t he the one to escort his lady wife in?”

Garlan looked down, nodding his head. “The riding took a toll on his leg, Grandmother. He’ll be here shortly, I’m sure,” he said.

Sansa could tell he was lying by the way he refused to look Lady Olenna in the eye. If she had to guess, Sansa would say Willas and his brother had a large fight after arriving because of Loras’s comment.

Olenna dismissed the pair and they took their seats at the far end of the table. A page filled Sansa’s glass with wine. She picked it up immediately, taking a long sip. She set the glass down and then looked into her lap.

“Tell me, child, how was your journey here?” Olenna asked, leaning towards Sansa.

She looked up, smiling as she folded her hands in her lap. “It was long, but beautiful. The Reach is wonderful to see. I’m sad it will be a while before I can see everything in the full bloom of summer, though.”

Olenna waved her hand. “Trees are boring. I hope my son did not make too much of a fool of himself in King’s Landing with the other lords?”

Sansa swallowed deeply. Modesty was the key, she reminded herself. “No, my Lady. Lord Tyrell was very noble. And he was such pleasant company on the journey here. He spoke much about this place. Now that I see it, I understand why his words could not do it justice.”

She waited for a response, her heart pounding in her ears as the old woman looked at her. Reaching out, Olenna patted her arm. “You’ve got a diplomatic mouth, child. Court has taught you well.”

Lady Olenna turned to her food and Sansa let out a silent sigh of relief. She glanced down the table and caught Leonette’s eye. Sansa smiled nodding slightly. Her gaze then moved to the empty seat beside her. As unpleasant as he was, she wished her husband would arrive.

“How has my grandson been treating you?” Olenna asked between bites of lamb.

Sansa paled a shade. “He’s been respectful, my Lady. Very quiet, though.”

Olenna looked up from her plate and leaned in again. “Quiet, is it? Has he bedded you since your wedding?” she asked.

Sansa paled another shade, which brought a small smirk to the old woman’s lips. Throat tight with fear, she shook her head. “No, my Lady.”

“Fear not, child. That will change now that you are here. You will be with child soon and all will be well,” Olenna said.

The second course arrived, as did Willas. Sansa watched closely as her husband walked around the edge of the room and up to the dias. He bowed his head to Lady Olenna and Sansa and then taking his seat.

Olenna set down her wine and glared at her grandson. “I see you’ve decided to join us, Willas. Your lady wife has been here all alone while you were off sulking.”

Sansa watched as Willas’s jaw tightened. He took a sip of his wine and began to cut a slice of meat. “I was preoccupied with matters of state, Grandmother. I’m sure my lady wife understands.”

Turning to Olenna, Sansa waved her hand. “I take no offence. I’ve had a lovely time with you, Lady Tyrell.”

“You are too kind, child,” Olenna said, giving Sansa another pat on the arm.

Willas did not speak to Sansa again for the duration of the meal. He spent most of his time facing the other direction, deep in conversation with Lord Tyrell. Sansa did her best to pay attention, but when it became clear Willas had no intention of conversing with her, she returned to staring absent-mindedly at the crowd below. Lady Olenna spoke a few more times, asking her seemingly innocent questions about her time at court and her thoughts on Viserys. Sansa used it more as an opportunity to laud Margaery than anything else. Viserys was intelligent, but even Sansa knew that it would be the queen everyone loved and adored, not the king.

After several courses, Garlan tapped Sansa on the shoulder, offering his hand to dance. At first she looked to Willas for permission. He made no indication that he even noticed Garlan’s presence, so Sansa nodded and took his hand.

“I do apologize for my brother’s behavior, Sansa.”

Sansa cleared her throat, putting a smile on as the music began. “Nonsense. There’s nothing to apologize for.”

Garlan shook his head, smiling. “You are too forgiving. Loras told me what the journey back was like. He’s lucky to have you as a wife, as unwilling as he is to admit it.”

They were quiet for a minute. Sansa turned his words over in her mind. She had not choice but to be forgiving. He was her lord and husband. He could do as he pleased. But still, she wished he would at least look at her more than once a day. “You two fought after I left, didn’t you?”

Garlan nodded, grimace turning into a smile. “There’s no keeping secrets from you, is there?”

Sansa shook her head, grinning. “You forget that I grew up in court. Everyone lies. The trick is to watch what people do, not listen to what they say.”

“You sound so much like Grandmother,” Garlan said. “It’s no wonder she’s taken to you so quickly.”

Sansa’s brow creased and she looked up at the dias where Lady Olenna was seated. “Has she?”

“Yes, she has. Perhaps part of it is simply because Willas is being obstinate, but you’ve made a good impression on her. It took Leonette nearly a week to get a smile from her and you did it in a single night.” The music ended and the crowd applauded. Garlan offered his arm to lead her back up to their seats. “He will come around eventually,” he said. “Just give it time.”

_Give it time_. Sansa could do that, but for how long? She watched Garlan take his seat next to Leonette. They laughed and held hands and Sansa’s stomach turned. For a moment she hated Willas for what he was doing. She turned her gaze to him as he ate silently. The hatred vanished, and she in turn hated herself for even thinking such things. He was only doing his duty as the heir to Highgarden. She could do her duty as his wife, regardless of his feelings.

* * *

Sansa woke early the next morning. Her body ached and her head pounded, but the early dawn light pulled sleep from her grasp. She looked over to Willas, still sound asleep on the bed beside her. Reaching out, she gently brushed a brown curl from his face. He was impossibly handsome, she thought.

Climbing out of the bed, Sansa put on a dress and braided her hair, watching the sky lighten. Willas was still fast asleep when she slipped out the door. Exhaling, a small smile crept to her lips. She ran her hand along the white stone walls as she wandered through the halls. She passed several small courtyards and gardens before stopping.

One patch of the courtyard wall was covered in blooming roses. Sansa picked a few, careful not to prick her fingers. She left the garden and retraced her steps back to her chambers. Entering quietly, she saw that the servants had already laid out breakfast. Sansa laid the flowers on the table and sat down. She made it halfway through her meal before Willas made his appearance.

“Good morning,” she said. She watched him cautiously as he walked over, leaning heavily on his cane. “How is your leg?”

“It’s fine,” he said through gritted teeth.

He was obviously lying. Simply sitting down looked painful, but she didn’t comment. Sansa looked down at her food, no longer hungry. She took a sip of juice and then looked back at him. “Did you sleep well, at least?”

“Yes, thank you,” he replied. Sansa stood up and began to pile food on his plate. Willas waved his hand and she paused. “You don’t need to do that.”

Sansa pursed her lips. “That doesn’t mean I can’t still do it,” she said.

He looked up at her, obviously frustrated. “Sit, Sansa.”

Gritting her teeth, Sansa set the bowl of berries down with a heavy thud and sat in her seat across from him.

“Leonette will accompany you today and show you the castle,” he started. “She and Garlan will be here for another few weeks before they return to Brightwater Keep, so that should give you time to adjust and learn the place.”

Sansa bit her tongue, nodding. “Yes, my Lord.”

Willas ate a few bites before he eased himself up out of the chair and limped out the door without a word.

Sansa leaned back in her seat, hanging her head in her hands. At first she simply sat there. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she shut her eyes, willing them back unsuccessfully. She choked on a sob, her body shaking as tears rolled down her cheeks. Standing, she picked up the flowers. In a moment of anger, she threw them across the room, petals scattering upon impact. Sansa walked to the balcony, leaning on the stone railing as she took several deep breaths and wiped the tears from her cheeks.

The cool autumn breeze stung her damp face. She looked at the courtyards below, watching servants and members of Highgarden’s court walk to and fro. Her breathing evened out until she stopped crying. Garlan’s words ran through her head again and Sansa doubted whether or not all the time in the world would be enough for Willas.


	5. a dragon in snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys hates Robb, but that doesn't stop her from using him for her own satisfaction. The Stark family, on the other hand, is a painful reminder of what she left behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, sorry for the long wait. Also, I hope you like Sansa/Dany because that's a thing.

When Daenerys woke the following morning, she wasn’t cold. For the first time since they’d left King’s Landing, she didn’t wake up shivering and wishing she were back at home. Instead, she was tucked into the curve of Robb’s body. She didn’t move, keeping her eyes closed and pretending for a moment that it was Sansa she woke up next to and everything was as it was.

Robb shifted, a deep, gravelly groan coming from his chest as he woke. Daenerys was brought back from her dream. The events of the previous night came back in a rush, and Dany buried her face in her hands.

She had thoroughly enjoyed last night. And she hated that she did. She hated Robb. He wasn’t what she wanted. He wasn’t who she wanted. The anger boiled inside of her gut and she sat up, throwing off the furs and letting the icy air in. Robb jumped at the sudden cold, looking up at her with a confused expression.

Last night she had let Robb take control. On their wedding night he had been in control. No wolf would control a dragon, she decided. The anger in her turned into a hot need. She may hate him, but she was bound to him and she’d take him for everything he was worth. Swinging a leg over him, Dany sat astride his hips, rubbing herself up against him.

Whatever words he had been about to say were lost in a guttural moan. Dany smirked ever so slightly as she worked at herself with her hand. Robb propped himself up on an elbow, reaching up to bring her in for a kiss. She promptly smacked his hand away.

She lined herself up and then sank down onto him. He groaned, his eyes rolling back as he fell back down onto the furs. She rode him, continuing to pleasure herself until she peaked. She shook, feeling him tense beneath her as he came.

When the feeling returned to her limbs, Dany stood up and got dressed. Robb was silent. She liked it when he was silent.

As they rode further along the Kingsroad that day, Dany pondered the events of the morning. She wanted him, even if she hated him. The hate seemed to make it all the more enjoyable. Even thinking about it made a small need grow between her legs. Looking at him only reminded her of Sansa. Perhaps that’s why she hated him so much. Had she been married of to Willas instead, she might not have felt the same way. But to wed and bed Sansa’s twin would keep the wound of their separation open for a long time. Perhaps forever.

Still, taking her pleasure from him made riding more tolerable. Her limbs were loose and relaxed, and she could enjoy the experience, choosing to ride towards the front with the bannermen. They thought her to be sweet and gentle. She laughed at their stories, behaving like the perfect lady.

It was two months to Winterfell. Nearly every night, save when she bled, she took her pleasure from him and then promptly went to sleep. Robb was smart, and didn’t say a word as she did so. Despite the twisted nature of her desire for him, Dany knew that the sooner she produced and heir for him, the sooner she could ignore him. Or, at least that was how she justified it to herself.

* * *

Daenerys didn’t know what she was expecting when they arrived at Winterfell. It wasn’t like the great castles of the south. It was squat and grey, but immense. The entire landscape was covered in large mounds of snow, but the large keep’s dark walls stuck out prominently. They rode to the gate, a long column of bannermen stretching before them.

They were greeted in the courtyard by the Stark family and household. Daenerys picked out Lady Catelyn immediately. A sharp stab of sadness went through her heart as she realized just how much Sansa looked like her mother. Did Sansa even know that? The rest of Sansa’s siblings were all lined up. Two little red-headed boys and a girl who looked remarkably like her father.

Dismounting, Dany took Robb’s arm and let him lead her.

“Mother, may I present the Princess Daenerys,” Robb said. Even here, Dany wouldn’t give up her title of princess. Not at heart, at least.

Lady Catelyn bowed. “Welcome to Winterfell,” she said. There was a gleam in her eye that sent mixed feelings through Dany’s stomach. Lady Catelyn turned, gesturing to her other children. “These are Robb’s siblings: Arya, Bran, and Rickon.”

Dany bowed her head, sending a small smile to the littlest one, who couldn’t have been more than four or five. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Stark.”

Robb released Dany’s arm, and she stood alone for a moment as Lord Stark embraced his wife and Robb picked up not one but both of his little brothers, putting the larger of the two on his shoulders. They were a family. A loving family, at that. Sansa would have loved this. Instead, she got the cold and unfeeling Targaryens in King’s Landing. She never knew her father, but Rhaegar had never been the most demonstrative of older brothers. It was Rhaella and Elia who were the kindest, but both were queens. They didn’t have time to be silly and loving. Not in the way the Starks were.

Lady Catelyn reached out and took Daenerys by the shoulder, leading her into the keep. The warm air, seeming to emanate from the very walls, was soothing. For the first time in months, Daenerys didn’t feel cold.

“We’re having a great feast tonight to celebrate your arrival, Daenerys. I need to speak with Robb, so Wylla, one of your ladies, will show you to your chambers and help you bathe and dress in one of the dresses I’ve had prepared for you,” she said.

Daenerys noticed the gleam again. It hit her that it was some kind of _love_. Lady Catelyn had just met Dany, knew virtually nothing of her, and yet loved her. She thanked Lady Catelyn and then turned around to be met with the sight of a short young woman with green hair.

The green haired girl bowed, and then beckoned Dany down the hall. “I’m Wylla Manderly, your highness. I’m one of your ladies, along with Alys Karstark. She’s already in your and Robb’s chambers preparing a bath for you. We’ve both been so excited for you to arrive. It’s not often that girls up here in the north get to be ladies. Arya is too young to have any, nor would she much appreciate us. And Robb’s sister isn’t here. Although, my elder sister Wynafryd has a couple of ladies from our family’s bannermen down in White Harbor. But that’s because she the heir and she wanted them. I, on the other hand-”

“You can call me Daenerys in private, Wylla,” Dany said. Anything to stop the girl and force her to take a breath.

Wylla nodded, a wide smile pasted across her face. “Yes, Daenerys.”

Dany smiled half-heartedly. The girl was cute, if a bit talkative. Dany knew she would get used to it eventually. It would be nice to have another woman to talk to all the time. The royal household in King’s Landing was massive. Herself and Rhaenys had not only Sansa and Margaery, but a myriad of other young noble ladies. After three months on the Kingsroad, Dany sorely missed female company.

Wylla pushed a heavy wooden door open to reveal a modest solar, an open door beyond leading to the bedchamber. Wylla gestured towards the other door. “Alys is right through there with your bath. Shall I take your cloak?”

Dany nodded, shrugging off the heavy fur cloak she had practically lived in for the last few weeks. “Thank you, Wylla.” She walked to the bedchamber, where a tall young woman with dark brown hair and solemn features, much like Lord Stark, was pouring steaming water into a large tub.

“Welcome, Princess Daenerys,” she said. Her voice was soft, much unlike Wylla’s. Alys set down the now empty pitcher and began to unlace Dany’s dress.

Wylla walked in, closing the door behind her. “The feast isn’t for a couple of hours, so that should give us enough time to scrub the smell of horses off of you, Daenerys.”

Alys froze, Dany’s dress half undone. “Wylla, don’t be so callous,” she scolded before undoing the last few laces.

Dany shrugged off her shift and then stepped into the bath. The hot water burned at her skin, but it felt good. “In private you may address me as Daenerys. And, to be fair, I do stink of horses.” She smiled before sinking below the water to wet her hair.

When she came back up, she was met with a stiff brush and scented oils. It was unsurprising that Wylla had opted for the harder work of scrubbing. Alys’s hands were gentle as they gently massaged the oils into Dany’s hair. She hummed, relaxing as she was taken care of. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine it was Sansa gently massaging her scalp. They would take turns, doing each other as they sat in the massive bath in King’s Landing.

Daenerys opened her eyes when Alys was finished, ducking her head under the water again to rinse off the excess. She stood, letting the girls wrap her in a warm towel to dry off. They sat her down in a chair and Alys began working at Dany’s hair, drying it and brushing until it was smooth and untangled.

Wylla pulled out a variety of dresses for Dany to choose from, laying them on the bed. Daenerys felt each in turn. “Lady Stark had them made for you. She sent for your measurements from King’s Landing as soon as you and Robb were married.”

Alys gently smacked Wylla’s shoulder. “It’s Lord Robb, Wylla. Stop being rude.”

Dany watched out of the corner of her eye as Wylla stuck out her tongue and mocked Alys. They had clearly been here for a few weeks preparing for her arrival. Their antics were amusing, to say the least.

“I must thank Lady Stark, then,” Dany said. She picked up a dress, made of soft wool dyed a dark red and accented in grey. “I think this one will do.”

Once dressed, Alys sat Dany down again to braid her hair in a northern style. It wrapped her head like a crown, red silk ribbons to decorate.

Wylla sat on the edge of the tub as Alys finished. “Lady Stark knew that you would miss your house colors. Grey and white are not the most exciting. She was one a Tully, you know. She still wears the Tully blues once in a while.”

Dany smiled. “You speak very highly of her,” she said.

Alys hummed. “Lady Stark is very kind. She’s happy to have you here. She’s missed having a daughter very much.”

“Isn’t Arya a girl?” Dany smoothed out her dress as she stood.

Wylla snorted as she laughed. “Arya is a girl, sure. But she spends more time in the yard than Bran does. I’ll bet you anything Lady Stark is in Arya’s chambers right now practically wrestling her into a dress for the feast.”

Alys smiled softly. “It’s true, though.” She fastened a black ribbon with a white direwolf pendant around Dany’s neck. “Wylla and I have been here a fortnight and we’ve never seen Arya in a dress.”

“I think Lady Stark has just given up. Lord Stark doesn’t seem to mind that his daughter is half wild. It’s certainly no help that they’ve got those direwolves running around, too.”

Dany looked at herself in the small mirror, fondling the direwolf pendant. She’d rather it was a dragon, but she wasn’t a Targaryen anymore. Not by name. She turned to look at her maidens. “Direwolves?”

The pair looked at each other and then back at Dany. “Were they not out in the courtyard?” Wylla asked. Dany shook her head. “A year or so back Theon and Robb found some direwolf pups in the forest on the way back from some execution. Their mother was dead, and there were six of them. They brought them back, gave four to the children, and the other two have wandered. Lady Stark hoped that it was a sign she’d have Sansa back, but that didn’t happen. She still cares for one of the spares as though it belongs to Sansa.”

“And the other one?”

“All white, like a ghost. Lord Stark cares for that one. It’s a boy, but sometimes he’ll call it Lyanna, after his sister who died,” Alys said.

Dany didn’t know much about Lyanna, only that her brother Rhaegar had loved her. Her name was forbidden in King’s Landing. Rhaegar said it caused him too much pain to think of his dead love. The affair still stung Queen Elia, which was the real reason why no one spoke of it.

There was a knock at the door, and Dany’s maidens jumped. Wylla hurried over as Alys brushed herself off and stood behind Dany.

The door opened to reveal Robb, cleaned off and dressed in grey. “Princess. Ladies,” he said, bowing to each. He held out his arm for Dany. Swallowing deeply, she took it and was led out of their chambers and into the hallways towards the feast. Wylla and Alys followed behind silently.

The ladies broke off, entering the great hall by another door. Robb and Dany lined up with the rest of the family for their entrance. For a split second, Dany was nervous about being officially presented to the northern lords. It occurred to her that she would one day rule over them. Not as a queen, but as the wife of their liege lord.

The doors opened and Lord and Lady Stark were the first to enter, followed by herself and Robb. Bran and Arya were right behind, with Rickon in the rear. The Stark family, Daenerys included, took their seat at the dias in the front. The room was much smaller than Dany had imagined. And even at its size, it comfortably fit what she assumed to be most, if not all, of the northern lords.

Dany sat between Robb and Arya, to the right of Lord Stark. She fidgeted throughout the entirety of her father’s speech. When the food was brought out, Arya went straight for the sweets, carefully looking to make sure that her mother wasn’t looking. Dany picked at her food, more interested in watching Arya than engaging in conversation with Robb.

“You won’t tell, will you?” Arya asked as she shoved a third little cake into her mouth, her plate devoid of any other food.

“I won’t,” Dany said with a wink. There was no doubt this girl was Sansa’s little sister. At nearly every banquet growing up, Sansa spent half the meal sneaking sweets into a napkin for later that night, when the two of them were buried under blankets in Dany’s chambers, gossiping.

Arya swallowed the enormous mouthful of cake and then turned back to Dany. “What was my sister like?” she asked.

Dany panicked for a second. What was Sansa like? Sansa was the world. She cleared her throat, and then put her fork. “She was very kind, and very generous. She loved everyone, and always wanted people to be happy.”

“She sounds boring,” Arya said.

“Not everyone is you, Arya,” Robb said, cutting in from Dany’s other side. “Be nice to your new sister or father won’t let you into the training yard tomorrow.”

Arya stuck out her tongue, prompting Robb to do the same briefly before turning back to his food before he was caught. Dany sat silently between the pair, Robb’s voice looping in her head. _Your new sister._ That’s what she now was. She was a Stark. She was a new sister for Arya and Bran and Rickon. She was to replace Sansa, in a way. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she closed them, taking a deep breath. Robb took her hand under the table, gently squeezing. For a moment, it felt nice. Then, she pulled her hand away, forcing the tears back, and continued eating. They wouldn’t see her cry.

* * *

When the feast was over, and Dany was allowed to retreat to her chambers, she let herself cry. Winterfell was quiet and empty in comparison to the Red Keep. Lady Catelyn was kind, as was Lord Stark. Robb loved his siblings, and they loved him in return. And they all seemed so ready to love her, too. But she didn’t want them to. She wanted to go home.

Dany sat on the bed in her shift, Wylla and Alys having left long ago after undressing her. The candle had almost burnt itself out when Robb walked in, wavering slightly from the wine. He lay down on the bed, sighing. Nearly a minute passed before he sat up again.

“Daenerys,” he started. She grit her teeth as he shifted to sit next to her. “Daenerys, I know you aren’t happy to be here. I’m sorry about Arya. I should’ve told her to not talk about Sansa, but-”

“It’s not that,” Dany said firmly.

Robb paused, watching her for a moment. “Then what is it?” He reached out, taking hold of her hand again.

This time, she yanked her hand away. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Perhaps it was the wine that made him bolder, but Robb took her by the shoulders, turning her in her place to face him. There was pure spite pouring from her eyes as she glared at him. He held firm, looking back at her with a new expression that she hadn’t seen from him before: love. “Please tell me.”

Her anger boiled over, and she shoved him back, getting up from the bed and storming over to the window. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” he asked, still on the bed.

“Like you actually care,” she spat over her shoulder. Robb was silent. She wanted desperately to cry, but there were no more tears left inside of her. “You Starks…” she began. “You Starks are happy and love each other. You’re a real family. Do you know what King’s Landing is like? It’s not like it is here. Sansa was the closest thing I had to family and she was taken away from me. And I get you instead. You’re just a painful reminder of that.”

Robb got up from the bed and walked over. He stood behind her, his hands gently resting on her hips.

“I’m sorry I’m not Sansa. But I do care for you,” he said.

“Don’t say that,” she said, trying to shrug off his grasp.

He held firm, his fingers tightening around her as he pulled her in. “I do, though,” he said. “You can fight it all you want, but I care about you. You’re my wife, like it or not.”

He was right. She was his, like it or not. She looked down. “I’m with child,” she whispered. She felt Robb freeze behind her. “It must have been sometime around the Neck, because I haven’t bled since the Trident.

“Daenerys, that’s…” He drifted off, slowly turning her to face him. She turned her face away, still trying to avoid that look of love that sent shivers up her spine. He reached up, taking her cheek in his hand and gently turning her to look at him. He was smiling, and it made her want to vomit. He had the same smile as her. “That’s wonderful,” he said. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against her own.

“I love you,” he said. “I know you may never love me, but I-”

Dany would later decide to blame it on the baby, but his admission sent a wave of need rushing through her. She reached up, and pulled him into a deep kiss before backing him onto the bed.


	6. the wolf's discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa spends much of her time wandering Highgarden. It's surprising it took her this long to find the keep's heart.

Over the month Sansa had been in Highgarden, more and more leaves fell from trees. What once was green was now a sea of gold and red. Plump autumn fruits and vegetables were hauled in daily by the gardeners of the castle’s vast fields. Every evening they dined on the day’s collection.

Every evening, Willas ignored her.

Sansa sat at the table in their solar, writing letters. Dany wouldn’t receive hers until she arrived in Winterfell, but Sansa insisted on writing them regularly anyway. Margaery was quick to reply, though. One month and they’d passed a whole pile of letters back and forth. The maester here joked the last time she’d gone up to send a letter that if she wrote any more frequently, he’d have to get more ravens. Maester Lomys was a sweet man, elderly but still sharp. Sansa loved going to his corner of the towers. He had endless stories to tell, many of Willas’s youth.

One afternoon the week before last she’d asked the maester why, perhaps, Willas refused to acknowledge her. Maester Lomys had no answer, but said that the young Lord Willas was an honorable man, and never did anything without reason. It didn’t satisfy Sansa, and made her all the more frustrated that evening when Willas did nothing but place a chaste kiss on her cheek.

Sansa sealed up her latest letter to Daenerys. Without replies, Sansa spent most of her letters to Dany rambling about life at Highgarden and wondering why Willas seems so displeased with her. She gathered her skirts, standing up when there was a knock at the door.

“Come in,” Sansa said, holding the letter tightly to her stomach as as the door opened. It was the maester, holding a letter of his own.

“Another one for me to send, dear?” Lomys said, gesturing to the folded paper in Sansa’s hands.

She smiled and looked down at the rose seal. “Yes,” she said softly. “Another one for Winterfell.”

“Then we can trade,” he said, holding out a letter sealed with a dragon. “This just came from King’s Landing for you. If I didn’t know better, I’d wonder if you’d left a lover behind.”

Sansa forced a smile, an ache growing in her chest as they swapped letters. “Yes, it would appear so, wouldn’t it?”

Lomys gently patted Sansa’s hand. “You’re a brave girl, Lady Sansa. Many ladies would not be as graceful as you are in such a situation.”

Tears grew in Sansa’s eyes as the old man turned and headed for the door. Sansa held Marg’s letter to her breast, wiping away the tears as Willas walked in a few seconds later.

“Is everything alright?” he asked, leaning heavily on his cane as he shut the door.

Sansa nodded, inhaling deeply. “Yes, I’m fine. Maester Lomys was just dropping off a letter for me from your sister.

Willas nodded, limping over to a seat at the table across from Sansa’s stack of papers. “She writes to you more than her own brother. I’d almost say that she loved you more than she did the rest of us.”

Sansa cleared her throat. “She and I did grow up together, Willas. You can’t blame her for writing to me more. She barely knows you.” There was a small bite to her words as she sat back down at the table. She put the letter to the side, sweeping the loose papers together and closing up the inkwell.

Willas gestured to the letter. “Well, aren’t you going to read it?”

She looked up at him briefly before standing and filing away her writing supplies. “I’ll wait until after dinner,” she said. Picking up the letter again, she placed it on top of her letterbox. She walked over to Willas, placed a gentle kiss on the top of his head, her hand resting gently on his shoulder. She tried to be demonstrative towards him, showing that she was a good and gentle wife. She wanted him to know that she loved him, or at least she was trying.

Willas picked up the silver bell in front of him and rang it. The door opened, a young serving girl at the ready. “We’ll have dinner now.”

The girl bowed, and then scurried off. Willas didn’t make any move to return Sansa’s gestures, so she returned to her seat across the table. They sat in silence, waiting for dinner.

A few minutes later, the serving girl returned with company, bringing plates of food. Sansa thanked and then dismissed them. She watched as her husband silently piled food onto his plate.

“Leonette said that you and Garlan might go riding tomorrow,” Sansa said. Anything to start a conversation.

Willas swallowed a mouthful of honeyed ham. “Yes, we will if my leg doesn’t bother me too much.”

“Is it for a hunt?”

“No.”

“Just for pleasure then?”

“Yes.”

Sansa leaned back in her seat, silently huffing at her husband’s monotonous answers. Standing, she walked over and picked the letter up again, bringing it to the table. If her husband wouldn’t talk to her, then his sister would, even if she wasn’t there physically.

Sansa cleaned her knife and then used it to pry the seal open. She brushed the loose bits of wax off the table and then spread the pages out. Margaery was a talkative one, writing volumes in every letter. Sansa loved reading Marg’s handwriting. It was very pretty, with elegant loops and curls to each letter.

About halfway through the letter, Sansa dropped her fork to the plate. The metal clattered, startling Willas. He looked up from his plate. “Is something wrong?” he asked.

“Margaery is with child. She and Viserys are hoping for a boy. An heir. She’s very happy about it,” Sansa said, her voice drifting off at the end. She couldn’t deny the sharp pain of jealousy in her chest. By all accounts, Marg and Viserys had a wonderful marriage. And plenty of activity in the marriage bed, if she was already with child.

“That’s good news,” Willas said, looking back down at his plate.

Sansa folded the letter and set it aside. “Yes, good news indeed.”

* * *

Every morning, Sansa took a walk through the gardens. Once in a while, she’d be joined by one of her ladies, or even Leonette. But she enjoyed the time alone. Highgarden was near as busy as King’s Landing, but everyone had learned quickly that Sansa didn’t want to be disturbed on her walks.

The sun was well above the horizon as Sansa returned to the castle. She held a bunch of fresh flowers in her fist, given to her by one of the young boys who tended the gardens. It was a different boy each day, and she wondered just how many of them worked in the castle.

Sansa strolled through the passageways, running her hand along the white stone walls as she passed courtyard after courtyard. Her stomach roiled with hunger, and she decided to attempt a shortcut, passing through the center of the keep rather than going the long way around like everyone always did.

The further into the keep she got, the older the towers. Leonette had given her a very brief history of the place, but even she didn’t know all of its secrets. Less and less light filtered in through the windows as she reached the center, and Sansa was surprised to find a small archway leading to a garden.

Sansa peeked into what she assumed was a little grotto. What she found, was a large, circular wood. She stepped in, the soft moss underfoot damping all sound. The only sound was a small brook further in. As she got closer to the center, she realized that, at the very heart of the keep, were three weirwood trees.

It was a _godswood_. Sansa sank to her knees. No one had told her there was a godswood this far south. She may have grown up in King’s Landing, but she was a Stark at heart. She’d always heard of heart trees and weirwoods, but was never allowed into the godswood in the Red Keep. No one was.

Tears welled up in Sansa’s eyes as she leaned forward, propping herself up on her hands. She never knew Winterfell, but this was as close to it as she’d ever felt.

A sob forced its way up Sansa’s throat, shaking her body. Sansa looked at the flowers in her hand, suddenly angry. She threw the flowers at the water, letting out a frustrated scream. How could Willas not tell her? He knew she missed Winterfell. Everyone knew she missed her home and her family. So why wouldn’t they tell her they had a piece of it right here?

Sansa let herself cry, kneeling on the soft bed of moss and leaves. She  felt as though she were in a different world. Reaching out gently, she touched the white wood of the heart trees. It was warm, unlike any other tree she’d felt. She shifted forward, getting closer. They creaked quietly, as though they were breathing. Or speaking. Sansa leaned back and shifted to free her legs. She slowed her breathing, to match the trees, and closed her eyes. This was what peace felt like. It wasn’t until her stomach growled again, demanding breakfast, that she remembered why she had cut through the center of the keep at all.

Standing, she brushed the bits of earth off of her dress. Willas would be waiting for her in their solar. He may not love her, but he did insist on taking his meals with her. Perhaps she could call that some twisted form of love.

Sansa left the flowers strewn about, and walked out of the godswood. She strode quickly the last few hallways to her and Willas’s chambers. He was already inside, tapping his fingers on the table as the food sat in front of him.

“Lose track of time?” he asked.

Sansa forced a smile. “Yes,” she said. She didn’t have any words for him. Not today. She sat down and they began eating. Sansa daintily shoveled a large amount of fruit into her mouth to keep from screaming.

“You’re being quiet,” Willas said, looking up from his letters.

Sansa swallowed, struggling to get the food down. “No more so than usual.”

Willas shrugged and then returned to his work. She glared at him as she stabbed her knife into a plump orange, depositing it on her plate to be ripped open and devoured. For a moment, she imagined it was him she was stabbing. A second later she regretted her anger. Perhaps it wasn’t his fault. Maester Lomys said he was kind and considerate. Perhaps he just never thought that she would care about a godswood. After all, she had grown up in King’s Landing. They wouldn’t necessarily know that she still felt an affinity for the old gods.

* * *

Sansa screamed with delight when Dany’s first letter arrived. She hugged the old maester before hurrying him out the door so she could read in privacy. Gathering her cloak, Sansa tucked the letter into her skirts and made for the godswood. She wanted to be alone, truly alone, when she read Dany’s letter.

In the two months since she’d discovered the godswood, it had become her refuge. She sat among the weirwoods every morning until breakfast, basking in the quiet. She felt different in the wood, as though she were truly herself.

Sansa sat up against the center tree as she ripped open Dany’s letter. Her heart was pounding as she began to read. Dany mused on Sansa’s numerous letters for a while, mocking her for the pages and pages that she’d been forced to read. Even in writing, Dany knew how to make Sansa smile.

Then Dany spoke of the Starks. She described Lady Catelyn as the kindest mother anyone could have. It brought tears to Sansa’s eyes. Dany said that Catelyn missed Sansa very much, and would be writing soon. Dany described Sansa’s younger siblings in great detail. Arya was more a boy that Bran and Rickon were, it seemed. Sansa’s heart ached to see them all in person, to truly know her family. Dany said little of Robb, describing him as dutiful and caring. The same could’ve been said for Willas, though.

It was the last line that made Sansa dizzy with disbelief. Daenerys was with child. She was much less thrilled than Margaery had been in her letter, but nevertheless, that left Sansa wed and hardly bed.

Sansa folded up the letter and set it on the ground. She leaned her head back, forcing herself to not cry. It seemed as though all she did nowadays was cry over one thing or another. She was happy for Dany, if not a bit jealous. She wasn’t the happiest, far off in Winterfell, but at least she had a family of her own. Or rather, she would in a few months. Sansa had trees.

She picked the letter back up, a deep ache growing in her chest. At night, Willas barely touched her, even to share warmth as the weather grew cooler. It was much different than when she and Daenerys shared a bed growing up. They spent every night tangled up together under the blankets, practically inseparable. Sansa knew that their weddings and children wouldn’t change that.

Sansa pulled her knees to her chest, clutching the letter as she closed her eyes. All would be well. Willas would come to his senses and act like a true husband. Eventually.

Sansa sat for most of the afternoon leaned up against the weirwood. She watched the shadows grow long as the sun set further and further. Eventually, she stood and figured it was well past dinner. Willas would be starving, even if she wasn’t.

Upon arriving at her chambers, she was winded, the cool air flushing her cheeks.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” she said, closing the door. She turned to see the table empty, Willas reading a letter quietly.

“It’s no bother,” he mumbled.

Sansa strode across the room, tucking the letter away into a drawer with the others she had received from Margaery.

“Anything interesting?” he asked, nodding towards the drawer.

Sansa looked down at her feet for a moment, shifting her weight. “Oh, um, yes. Daenerys is with child.”

Willas looked at her for a moment, and Sansa wondered if he was going to comment on the fact that she was now the only one left who was without child. He didn’t. “Congratulations to her and Robb. They must be very happy.”

Sansa took her usual seat across the table. “Yes, you could say that.”

“I’m surprised they didn’t wait a while, until she was older,” he said, ringing the dinner bell.

Sansa leaned forward. “I beg your pardon?”

Willas nodded to the servant, dismissing her. Turning back, he sighed and addressed Sansa. “I said I’m surprised they didn’t wait until she was older.”

“You didn’t say that about Margaery.”

“She’s queen. They need an heir. If Viserys died tomorrow and Margaery didn’t have a child that could inherit, then there would be chaos. Robb isn’t even the Lord of Winterfell yet and has a few younger brothers. They have time.” Willas returned to his letter.

“If Viserys died tomorrow, the crown would pass to Rhaenys, as it should’ve,” Sansa mumbled.

“Pardon?”

“I just don’t understand why you find this to be an issue. Just because they’re young doesn’t mean they shouldn’t have children. They’re the future rulers of Winterfell. Securing an heir to the line beyond Bran and Rickon should be important. You of all people should understand that. Garlan has his own keep and Loras is in the Kingsguard. The Tyrells might be a large family but you still need to have an heir that’s not your brother.”

Willas sighed, setting down his papers. “Is that why you’re angry? Because they’re with child and you aren’t?”  
  
“No, that’s not-”

“You’re a child, Sansa. You’ve only just turned sixteen. I am in no danger of dying, and I’d rather not risk you at such a tender age. An heir is not the most important thing to me right now.”

Sansa stood, fists clenched. She wanted to scream. “So you won’t even acknowledge that I’m your wife? I can understand not wanting to risk getting me with child, but that doesn’t mean you can’t at least love me.”

Willas leaned forward, and Sansa half thought he was about to get out of his chair. “I do love you, but it’s exactly this that justifies what I said.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means, that you getting this upset only proves that you’re too young.”

Sansa wanted to stomp her foot and scream, but knew it would only prove him right. She took a deep breath and walked towards the door. “No, it only proves that you know nothing about me.” She wrapped her cloak around her shoulders and slammed the door shut.

Out in the hallway, Sansa willed herself to not cry again. She passed by the servants, ignoring their questions as she headed straight back to the godswood. She wanted to be alone, and that was as alone as she would get.

By the time she reached the wood, the sun had set and the sky was losing its last bits of light. There were no torches or candles in the godswood, but after a few minutes of fumbling Sansa found the heart trees. She leaned up against one of them, and then sank to the ground.

She didn’t know if she was relieved or angry to finally know why Willas refused to acknowledge her. She hung her head in her hands, replaying their argument over and over in her head. On some level he must care for her, since he’s so worried about her dying in the birthing bed. But that didn’t change the fact that he thought of her as a child. She was a woman grown and wed. By definition she was no child.

The anger and sadness circles her mind as she closed her eyes. She was exhausted from the day’s emotional turmoil, and fell asleep quickly.

The following morning, she would wake with dreams of direwolves and snow fading from her memory. But what would stick in her memory permanently is the image of a woman who looked remarkably like herself sitting by a fire, writing a letter.


	7. a dragon's fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys refuses to be happy, despite having a loving husband and family. Her new companion, however, disapproves.

Word spread quickly through Winterfell that Daenerys was already with child. Lady Catelyn was thrilled, almost more so than Robb was. Dany wondered if her own mother would’ve responded the same way had she still been in King’s Landing.

“We’ll have Luwin prepare everything that you’ll need,” Lady Catelyn said. “The first one is always the hardest.”

Dany smiled, watching as Lady Catelyn embroidered little snowflakes into a dress of grey wool. Sansa’s talent for sewing had been inherited, apparently. “I imagine so.”

Catelyn set down her work. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to frighten you. Childbirth is difficult, but it’s not to be feared.”

Dany shook her head, looking up from her own embroidery. “Not at all. It’s my duty to provide Robb with children, whether or not it scares me.”

“Duty or no, it should be something you want.”

“I think that want is out of the question at this point.”

Lady Catelyn laughed and picked her work back up. “Even so, I do hope that child brings you as much happiness as Robb did for me.”

Dany noted the absence of Sansa. They sat in silence for a few minutes before Dany spoke up again. “She’s just like you, you know.”

“She is?”

“She’s loving and wanted nothing more than for me and the other girls to be happy. She was funny, too. I always smiled when I was around her. She’d allow nothing less,” Dany said. Talking about Sansa to Lady Catelyn hurt less than when she spoke to Robb. “She missed you, too. For as long as I can remember, she always wished that she knew her mother. Queen Elia and Queen Rhaella were great mothers to all of us girls, but Sansa always wished for you.”

Dany finally looked up from her work to see Lady Catelyn quietly wiping away a few tears.

“Write to her,” Dany said. “I know she’d want nothing more. Once things settle she could come visit Winterfell.”

Lady Catelyn inhaled deeply. “Yes, that would be good.”

Dany smiled, going back to her work. She wouldn’t call herself manipulative, but she certainly wasn’t planting the notion that Sansa could visit out of sheer selflessness. It would make Sansa incredibly happy, too. And really, wasn’t that the most important thing of all?

Looking down, she stared at the direwolf curled up next to her. It was the one Lady Catelyn cared for. Dany had started thinking of it as Sansa. Every now and then, it would look at her with a curious expression, as though it were both far off and right there at a single moment. Then it would yawn, and put its head back down. Dany had known dogs wilder than this wolf.

She reached down and gently stroked its head for a few minutes before standing up. “I should take a walk,” she said, bidding Lady Catelyn farewell. The direwolf stood and followed closely at her heels.

“You’re a lot quieter than she is,” Dany said to the wolf as she wound her way through the halls. It looked up at her, silent. “My point exactly.” Dany pushed a door open, revealing the training yard below. She let the wolf out, shutting the door after it. “Come, let’s watch Arya practice.”

Arya was unlike any little girl Dany had ever encountered. She and Sansa were like night and day, and yet entirely identical. After that first night, Dany saw Arya in nothing but breeches and tunics, often with dirt smudges across her face, too.

Descending the stairs, Dany took a seat along one wall of the courtyard. The wolf curled up at her feet as she wrapped her cloak around her shoulders.

Arya was dueling Bran and winning. Robb and Theon were across the way, cheering the pair on and shouting advice. Dany nodded quietly to her husband, who smiled at the sight of her. He was a fool in love with her. That stupid grin on his face wouldn’t go away. She hated it. Dany clapped, cheering Arya on. Bran lifted his small helmet, shouting that it wasn’t fair Arya got all the support. It was a mistake on his part, because his sister took the opportunity to whack him in the belly with the wooden sword. The boy fell to the ground, winded from the blow. Arya laughed, mocking her brother for getting distracted.

“Be nice, Arya,” Robb said as he picked up Bran and set him on his feet. Turning to the young boy, he knelt. “What did we learn?”

“Don’t look away from your opponent,” Bran recited.

“Always keep your eyes on the danger. It doesn’t matter who is on your side or not. In a real battle, you need to stay focused on the enemy,” Robb said.

“Yes, Robb,” Bran said. “Can I go play now?”

Robb hung his head. “Yes, training is over.” Bran ran off before Robb even finished his sentence. “But no climbing, you know how mother hates it!”

“Can I stay and watch you and Theon train?” Arya asked, tugging at Robb’s sleeve.

Robb ruffled her hair as he stood. “Of course. Why don’t you go sit with Daenerys?”

Arya handed over her sword and walked over to the bench.

Daenerys clapped again for Arya as the girl sat down. “You were wonderful, Arya.” The girl made a better soldier than her brother, that was for sure.

“It wasn’t hard. Bran’s too light on his feet. He’s so easy to knock over,” she said, shrugging. “He needs to be more like Theon.” The young girl gestured to the Greyjoy now wailing on Robb with a dull sword. “He plants himself. Even when you hit him, he doesn’t move.”

“Well, Bran will learn eventually,” Dany replied. She looked back to the pair in the yard. Robb was dripping with sweat despite the freezing air.

“Do you like my brother?” Arya asked as she scratched the direwolf’s head.

Dany looked over at the little girl. That was too complicated of a question to answer truthfully. “He’s my husband, of course I like him.”

Arya rolled her eyes. “That’s not what I mean. Besides, plenty of people who are married don’t like each other. Did your parents like each other?”

“No,” Dany replied. They definitely did not like each other. Nor did Rhaegar and Elia, for that matter. “And what do you mean, that’s not what you mean?”

“I mean, do you actually want to be married to him? Even though you didn’t get to choose him? Do you enjoy being married to him?” Arya asked.

Dany blinked, unsure of how to answer the question. “You ask a lot of questions.”

“And you’re not answering them.”

Dany sighed, rubbing her hands together beneath her cloak. “I don’t know yet, Arya. It’s only been a few months.”

Arya frowned. “You’re carrying his child. I may be nine, but I’m not stupid. You have to like him at least a little bit.”

“And little girls of nine shouldn’t pry into the happenings of their elder brother’s bedrooms,” Dany shot back. She reached out, wrapping her arm around the girl.

Arya wriggled out of Dany’s grasp, laughing. “I won’t ever get married,” Arya said.

“Oh?”

“Being a lady and having babies is gross.”

Dany shook her head. The child was one of a kind.

* * *

Daenerys sat next to the fire in her solar reading through Sansa’s letters again. She had sent a number of them, mostly idle chatter about life at Highgarden. From what Dany could tell, Willas was a boring husband. She may hate being married to Robb, but at least her days weren’t boring. From the sounds of if, Sansa hardly ever saw Willas and she spent most of her time walking the grounds for lack of better entertainment.

Dany looked down at the direwolf. It lifted its head, tilting it with what she would call a quizzical expression. She had initially thought the entire Stark family to be crazy when they referred to their wolves as expressive. But after a month in the keep with this one nearly always at her side, she was forced to agree.

“What is that look for,” she asked the animal. It stared at her, head cocked as she folded up the letters from Highgarden. “You know as well as I do there’s nothing I can do to help her,” Dany said. “She’s on the other end of the kingdom and,” she paused, rubbing her eyes in frustration,” she’s married to an idiot, apparently.”

The wolf huffed, putting its head down on her lap. Dany reached down and scratched the sweet spot behind its ears. “Okay, perhaps he’s not an idiot. But she deserves better.” _She deserves me_ , Dany thought.

Standing she filed the letters away. “She’ll come to visit soon. She deserves to meet her family.”

“Talking to the wolf again?” Robb was standing in the doorway.

Dany jumped, her heart flying to her chest as she shut the box of letters. “Robb, you know better.”

He shrugged, walking over and embracing her. “Come now, you know I didn’t mean to scare you.”

She slipped out of his grasp, sitting down at the table with a blank piece of paper and ink. “Is there something you wanted?”

Robb followed her, sitting next to her at the table. “I wanted to see how my wife was doing. I hardly ever see you these days.”

“That’s because I spend most of them vomiting into my chamber pot thanks to the child you put in me,” she said. She immediately regret the harsh tone and glanced over at him as he looked down almost apologetically. A part of her was glad he felt bad for getting her pregnant, even if it was their duty. Even if it was she who instigated most of their sexual relations. She cleared her throat, setting down the quill. “I’m sorry, Robb. I didn’t mean to snap.”

“I’ll leave you to your writing,” he said with a smile.

She knew it was fake. He did the same thing every time she was short with him. He’d force a smile and then walk away to beat something with a sword. He was too predictable.

Dany turned to the wolf as Robb closed the door. “At least he cares, right?” she asked. More than she could say for Sansa’s husband.

Turning back to the blank page in front of her, Dany sighed. What could she possibly say to Sansa? Please come visit me? I miss you more than I can bear? I wish I said how much I loved you one last time? Every iteration was increasingly desperate. No, complaining about being pregnant was a safer bet.

_Winter is harsh up here, but I do hope that you make the journey to visit despite the snow. Your mother would be thrilled to see you, as would I._ That sounded acceptable. Dany folded the letter and stood up, snapping her fingers to beckon the wolf to her side.

“Remember, you wait outside of the maester’s quarters or you’ll spook the ravens again,” she said, heaving the door open. “We don’t want to cause a fuss like last time. Maester Luwin had to spend an hour calming the birds down before he could send any letters.”

Dany climbed the stairs up to the maester’s quarters. The door was always open, although the Maester was nowhere to be seen. It was a curious place. The maesters in King’s Landing were always summoned, never sought out by an individual of the royal family.

Leaving the letter on the table, she spun a trinket and then left. Luwin knew what to do. The letter was addressed to Sansa, after all.

The wolf sat patiently outside the door. It followed Dany down the stairs, always right at her heels.

“And now we pray,” Dany said. “We pray that soon, she’ll be here and happy and life will be a little less dull.”

* * *

“My Lady, the white raven is here!” Wylla bust through the door, startling Daenerys as she embroidered by the fire. The wolf jumped to its feet as the green-haired woman skid to a halt on the stone floor. “Daenerys, winter is here!”

Dany set her work down and gave Wylla a look of ridicule. “I could’ve told you that by looking outside, Wylla. There’s no need to get worked up about it.” Winterfell may have fewer people running about its halls, but the people themselves seemed very keen on keeping Dany on her toes. She picked up her work and began gently folding it to be put away as Alys entered the room, out of breath.

“Wylla, you shouldn’t have run off like that,” Alys said before turning to Dany to curtsey.

“She needed to know.”

Alys rolled her eyes. “So you ran through the castle like a wildling? Now you’re all messy. You can’t go to Bran’s name day celebration like this.”

Dany stood, waving the two apart as she walked towards the bedroom. “Hush, you two. Stop bickering when you have a job to do.” As endearing as their relationship was, they tended to get carried away on occasion.

“Yes, Daenerys,” Wylla muttered before reaching out to pinch Alys on the side, earning herself a slap on the wrist.

The two ladies in waiting sat Daenerys down to do her hair for the dinner. It wasn’t a huge celebration, but Bran was turning ten and Lord and Lady Stark were keen on making it special.

“Lady Stark says it’s a good thing winter is here. It’ll keep Bran off the roofs,” Alys said as she braided Dany’s hair.

Wylla hummed in agreement, handing over ribbons at Alys’s command. “After he had that close call a couple of years ago and nearly broke his leg, Lady Stark has someone keeping an eye on him constantly.”

Dany sifted through her necklaces, mulling each one over before putting it back. “He’ll find a way to climb, even in the snow.” She paused at a solid black ribbon with a red jewel. “This one will do. Pick out my black dress, the one with the white lining.”

“Yes, Daenerys.” Wylla put the ribbons down and crossed the room to dig through a large wooden chest.

Robb knocked on the open door, entering. “Pardon me, ladies. I seem to have misplaced my good doublet.”

Alys finished Dany’s hair, patting her on the shoulder before turning to curtsey to Robb. “You left it out on the chair in your solar, so we put it away in your chest.”

He smiled, shaking his head. “Shame on me,” he said. Clearing his throat, he opened the door a little further. “Would you two mind giving us a moment alone?”

Wylla smoothed out the dress for Daenerys, resting it on the bed. “Yes, my Lord.”

“Go ahead and get ready yourselves. Robb knows how to lace up a simple dress,” Dany said, waving her hand to dismiss them.

The door closed, and Dany looked down at her lap. Robb knelt beside her, taking her hands in his own. “Are you happy?”

Dany laughed. “Excuse me?”

“I’m serious,” Robb said. “Are you happy?”

She stood up, pulling her hands from his grasp. “I don’t want to talk about-” Robb was quick, putting himself in front of her. She grit her teeth. “I’ve only been here two months. How am I supposed to know?”

Robb put his hands on her hips. He knew her too well. Or, perhaps, they’d simply had this interaction too many times for him to be surprised by anything she did to avoid confronting her feelings.

“Deep down, you have to feel something about being here. You have to feel something about us. We’re having a child,” he said.

Dany grimaced. “I’m well aware of that fact, Robb.”

“So?”

She threw her hands up. “I don’t know,” she cried. “We have a duty, happiness be damned.”

Robb was getting frustrated. A part of her liked irritating him like this. “My parents had a duty, and they’re still happy.”

“So did mine, and look what happened!” Dany snapped, pushing him away. She picked up her dress and stepped into it. Robb silently walked up behind her and began lacing. “I know you want me to love you,” she started. “But you know I can’t. I’ll do my duty and have your children, but you know as well as I that happiness and love is never going to be something we share. Not the way your parents do.”

Robb finished the last tie and then picked up his doublet. “As you say, Daenerys,” he muttered, closing the door behind him.

A few seconds later, something scratched the door repeatedly. Dany wiped away the tears that were forming in her eyes and opened it, looking down at the direwolf. “Don’t look at me like that,” she said, pushing past the large beast. Taking a deep breath, she fought the urge to vomit. Fuck the child. She didn’t understand how anyone would actually want to go through this even once. The direwolf stayed put as she made her way to the hall. Robb waited for her outside, stone-faced after their fight. She knew that she hurt him. He was so easy to read.

“My Lady,” he said, offering up his arm.

“My Lord,” she replied, taking him by the elbow.

He led her into the hall and up to their seats. The meal was nice, but despite how hungry she was, Dany could barely eat for fear of getting sick. Halfway through, she excused herself, finding the nearest window and proceeding to vomit. She crumpled to the floor, breathing heavily as the cold air cooled her burning face.

A pair of arms lifted her up. She groaned, burying her head in Robb’s neck. She knew she should say something, but opening her mouth was a risk she wouldn’t take with her stomach this unhappy.

Robb laid her down in their bed fully dressed. He whistled, and the direwolf came bounding in to curl up next to her. Without a word, he left. “I can’t love him,” she whispered into the wolf’s fur. “Not even if I want to.”


	8. the wolf's adventure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa gets to see Oldtown, and makes a new friend in Baelor Hightower's daughter. But when she returns home, things with Willas take a sour turn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi don't mind me I just y'know moved a few thousand miles and changed jobs and did life stuff that kept me from actually writing so here you go please forgive me for the wait there'll be more chapters soon.

Sansa woke with a start, sitting up quickly as she gasped for air. She reached a hand up, feeling her forehead. Her skin was cold and clammy, covered in a thin layer of sweat. It couldn’t be a fever.

Looking over, Willas was still fast asleep. Nothing would wake him, she learned. Exhaling slowly, Sansa climbed out of bed and walked to the washing bowl in the corner of the room. She wiped her face and neck, her heart still racing from the dream.

She’d dreamt of Winterfell. It wasn’t the first time, but usually they weren’t so vivid. She could’ve sworn that Dany was curled up right next to her, face buried in Sansa’s hair. She could hear Dany’s voice and feel her breath.

Whatever it was, it was over now. Sansa walked over to the window, staring out as little snowflakes fell outside. The white raven had arrived a week before, announcing winter. As if on cue, the snows began trickling down night by night, turning the landscape from brown and gold to white.

Even the godswood had gotten uncomfortably cold. The weirwoods still had their thick canopies, but they were all the protection left. Soon the stream would freeze over, too.

It was nearly dawn, and after the dream Sansa didn’t want to fall asleep again. As much as she wanted to feel Dany next to her again, it was too real. Dreams like that were rarely a good thing. She wrapped herself in a robe of soft green wool and slipped out into the solar. The embers of last night’s fire were still glowing dimly. Sansa picked up the poker and stoked the ashes, overturning the warm coals before laying wood on top of them.

Sansa picked up the copy of _The Princess and The Queen_ that she’d been reading the night before while Willas worked. It was a fascinating book, and one that she’d never read before. Much of her reading in King’s Landing was limited to religious studies and annals. Books on war were saved for the likes of Viserys and the other boys. They were the ones who would eventually lead armies and devise strategies. A little lady like herself needed only to know her history and her faith.

That was a steaming pile of dragon shit, in her opinion. Well, it technically would’ve been Daenerys’s opinion, because it was her that Sansa thought of when she first began reading war books. Dany had always fought the maesters when they said she shouldn’t read something. Highgarden had a lovely library under Maester Lomys’s care and no one looked twice when Sansa picked up a book on the war of the Ninepenny Kings.

She put the book back down, her mind now on Daenerys. Her letter had arrived the day before, cautiously inviting Sansa to visit Winterfell. Sansa wanted nothing more. It would be a chance to hold Dany again, and she could feel what it’s like to be loved again. Perhaps some distance between herself and Willas would do the two of them good. After all, the trip up there would take three months at least, and she’d have to stay for a while to make the trip worth it.

But it meant seeing her family. And Sansa was scared of that.

“You’re up early,” Willas said quietly as he sat down across from her.

Sansa cleared her throat, pulling the book closer in her lap. “I had a strange dream and couldn’t fall back asleep.” It wasn’t a lie.

“Ah.” Willas stared at the little fire. The log was beginning to char, but it hadn’t yet caught flame.

They sat in silence for a while as the sun slowly crept above the horizon and lit the room. Their usual servant knocked on the door to bring breakfast.

Willas heaved himself up and out of the chair, leaning heavily on his cane as he moved to the table. It took Sansa a minute to gather herself up, but she followed after him. She wanted desperately to tell him of the invitation. But she knew what he’d say. Traveling in winter was dangerous, especially in the North. As much as she wanted to see her family, it could wait until the spring when things began to thaw. The kingsroad would be safer and it wouldn’t take so long to get there.

“Uncle Baelor has invited me to visit Oldtown for a few weeks,” Willas announced.

Sansa swallowed, not looking up from her little pile of eggs. “When will you return?” For a moment she wished he’d say that it would be an extended stay and that she would be alone for a few months. But no, Oldtown wasn’t terribly far.

“ _We_ will be visiting for a fortnight. We leave in a week.”

Oh. Sansa wouldn’t be visiting Winterfell any time soon, then. She nodded, biting her tongue to prevent herself from screaming at how terrible the timing was.

“My cousin Alys, Baelor’s daughter, is about your age. She’s still unwed. Perhaps if you two get along she could join us here. You could use the company,” he said.

Sansa cleared her throat. “Yes, that might be nice.” And maybe she wouldn’t gossip so loudly behind Sansa’s back about being ignored by her husband.

“Good, then it’s settled.” He stood up. “Now, if you excuse me, I have to meet with my father. The Ashfords are having some squabble with the Fossoways, and we have to sort out _which_ Fossoways before doing anything else. I might not be back until later this evening.”

“Yes, Willas.”

Sansa watched as he left their solar. She slumped back in her chair, covering her face with her hands. She pushed her plate away, leaving the eggs half-eaten. She didn’t have the stomach for them anyway.

Walking over to her little desk, she pulled out new paper and ink. She might as well write the unfortunate response to Daenerys now rather than later. Perhaps when they got back from Oldtown, she could broach the topic.

* * *

Oldtown was magnificent. As soon as they passed through the main gates of the city, Sansa felt at home. She forgot how much she missed the bustle of a large population. King’s Landing was so big, and even when it was quiet in the keep, the noise of the city could be heard in the distance. Oldtown was near as big, and near as noisy.

“Uncle Baelor, may I present my wife: Lady Sansa.”

Sansa curtseyed to Ser Baelor. He was a tall man with a wide smile that reminded her of Alerie when she laughed. Willas had clearly not inherited much from his mother’s family. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ser Baelor. You and your family are very generous.”

“Generosity my ass, if you’ll pardon the language. My nephew hasn’t bothered to even write his favorite uncle for nearly a year. I was worried I’d been replaced!” Baelor wrapped an arm around Willas, making the tall and solemn young man nearly stumble. For a moment, Willas looked five years younger as he smiled and pushed his way out of his uncle’s grasp.

“I have important duties to attend to, Uncle,” Willas muttered.

“You’re no fun anymore,” Baelor said, ruffling Willas’s hair and then taking Sansa’s hand, leading her up and into the Hightower. “I do hope you had a pleasant journey, Sansa.”

A giddy smile crept onto Sansa’s face, and her cheeks started to ache. “It was quiet. Willas isn’t much of a conversationalist when traveling.”

Baelor pat her hand. “You’ll never be short of conversation here, my dear. Somewhere running around this tower are my own children, including Alys. You two will get along well, I can only imagine what devious plots you two will concoct. My brother’s wife Jeyne Fossoway is also not much older than yourself.”

“I would be happy to meet them,” Sansa said.

Baelor chuckled. “My, you’re a diplomatic one. No one could argue that you were raised in court, could they?”

“No, I imagine not. Princess Daenerys was the one getting into trouble with her bold tongue,” Sansa said, shaking her head. “It was Queen Margaery and I who always stepped in and smoothed things over.”

Baelor slowed them to a halt, waiting for Willas and their small retinue of guards to catch up. “In any case, you’re probably very happy to be out of Highgarden and away from your mass of Tyrell ladies. Too much of one family can drive you insane. I should know.”

He wasn’t wrong. A week in and Sansa could barely stand to be around the mass of Tyrell cousins. They were like Margaery, but not quite her. They were less poised. And they giggled far too much. And _always_ whispered about the lack of physical affection between Sansa and Willas. Megga and Alla were the worst. If Sansa wasn’t worried about appearing unlady-like she would’ve stabbed the two repeatedly with their sewing needles by now for spreading all the gossip.

“I’m afraid this is where we part ways, Sansa. I must steal your husband for a few hours to discuss a few political matters.” Sansa’s heart sank. “But, I will see you at dinner. And tomorrow I’ve arranged for you and Alys to visit the Citadel. It’s marvelous, and if you’re very charming they might let you bring back a few books for the maester at Highgarden.”

Baelor was right. The Citadel _was_ marvelous. And Alys was a delight, too. She was very much like her father, with a loud laugh and no fear in her words.

“Oh, Sansa, come and see this!” Alys waved Sansa over to a table filled with brass trinkets and star maps. “Father was telling me about this. The maesters catalogue the movement of the stars to keep time.”

Sansa gently stroked the corner of a map. The artistry in them was astounding, and she wished that she understood more of it. Alys didn’t know how lucky she was to have an education that wasn’t bound by the royal court. “Yes, it’s fascinating,” she replied quietly.

The young acolyte supervising them stepped up. He was slender and dark skinned, going by Alleras. “My ladies, if you are so interested in these maps, would you like to see the observatory? It contains our newer instruments and you can see the other maesters at work preparing for tonight’s observations.”

“Oh, yes!” Alys said. She grabbed Sansa’s hand and pulled her along. “It will be oh so wonderful. You can tell your husband all about it and make him terribly jealous.”

Making Willas jealous was something Sansa ached to do. She knew he loved the stars, supposedly able to name all of the constellations in the sky. Although, she wouldn’t know for sure. He’d never done it for her. Breaking into a sly smile, Sansa nodded. “Yes, I think that would be a wonderful idea.”

By the end of the day, Sansa’s feet ached so much she could hardly stand. Alleras had been kind enough to carry their borrowed books back to the Hightower. Sansa and Alys were allowed two each, to be returned in a week. Alys had picked a book on medicine and one on astronomy. Sansa had tried reading the first page of each and found the words turning to noise in her head. Alys didn’t seem to mind that Sansa didn’t understand, although she wondered if the Hightower girl was just being nice.

Sansa sat next to the fire in her and Willas’s chambers reading one of her books from the Citadel. It was, in her opinion, a fascinating study of the Rhoynish invasion of Dorne in Nymeria’s War.

“Don’t let my grandmother catch you reading that,” Willas said as he sat across from her.

Sansa looked up, shrugging. “Well, she isn’t here and the book will be returned to the Citadel before we leave.” Sansa was no stranger to the rivalry between the Tyrells and the Martells, but she did find it silly. “Besides, there is no harm in studying history.”

Willas hummed, and then put his leg up. “How do you like Alys?” he asked.

Putting her book down, Sansa smiled. “She’s ever so lovely, Willas. It’s been ages since I’ve laughed as much as I do with her.”

He nodded, shifting in his seat. “Well, Uncle Baelor has offered to let her come back with us to Highgarden. She’d be one of your ladies, since you seem to dislike my Tyrell cousins so much.”

Sansa reddened several shades and looked down into her lap. “I don’t dislike them,” she said quietly.

“Lying does not become you, Sansa,” he said. “They are your family now, so you will have to learn to like them. But in the meantime, if I can give you some happiness by bringing Alys back, I would very much like to do so.”

Sansa grit her teeth at his words. _Happiness_. He knew damn well what would bring her happiness, but he refused to admit it. “Yes, Willas,” was all she could bear to say.

* * *

If Alys had any negative feelings about going to Highgarden, she didn’t let on. In fact, she seemed more excited to leave Oldtown than Sansa and Willas were.

The journey back passed much more quickly than the last, Alys filling the uncomfortable silences with her musings on the books she’d read. Sansa still understood very little, but Willas seemed intrigued by her opinions. She wished that he’d pay that kind of attention to her about anything. Still, she couldn’t fault Alys for Willas’s poor behavior.

Upon arriving in Highgarden, Sansa was met with a small stack of letters from both Margaery and Daenerys. She opened Dany’s first, glancing through the long complaints of pregnancy. Something else had to be going on. Dany was never one to chat idly.

Marg’s letters, however, contained much more exciting news. In the time that Sansa had been traveling back from Oldtown, Margaery had given birth to a beautiful baby girl. Viserys had insisted that she be given a proper Targaryen name, picking Shaera after his grandmother. The babe was small and delicate, but the maesters were convinced that she would grow healthy and strong with the proper care.

Sansa was jealous. Of course, she’d been jealous since the moment she found out that both Margaery and Daenerys were pregnant. But the child’s birth made it all the more real.

“Willas, did you hear about Margaery?” Sansa asked him over dinner.

He nodded. “Yes, I did. Mother told me shortly after we arrived. She should be happy, she’s produced an heir to the throne, even if it is a girl.”

His words stung Sansa. “I suppose so,” she started. “And Daenerys is pregnant, as well. It would seem that I am the only one failing at her wifely duties.” She regretted the words as soon as they slipped from her mouth. She looked down at her plate and pushed the creamed potatoes around with her fork.

Willas sat in silence for a moment. “You know I don’t like having this discussion, Sansa.”

Sansa blinked back tears, her voice shaking. “Do you know what they whisper about me, Willas? About us?” She put her fork down and stood. “They say that there must be something wrong with me because you refuse to touch me. Do you know why I dislike your cousins? Because they whisper behind my back constantly about how you’ve never once shown me any affection.”

“That’s enough,” Willas snapped. “I think it’s time you retired for the night.”

The tears tumbled out as she retreated. At the door, she turned back, taking a deep breath. “Oh, and you should know that I’ve accepted Daenerys’s invitation to visit Winterfell in a month’s time."


	9. the dragon's acceptance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys's time comes, and despite the pain she finds comfort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's shorter than average, but c'est la vie.

Maester Luwin opened the door to Lady Catelyn’s solar, the hinges squeaking. Daenerys hated that squeak. No door in King’s Landing was ever allowed to make such a sound. But here, things were old. And perhaps they liked it as such.

“Lady Stark, I have a letter for you,” he said, handing a folded piece of paper to Daenerys.

She hated being called Lady Stark. That was Catelyn’s title. Besides, Daenerys would never be a Stark. She was and always would be a Targaryen, regardless of her husband. Still, she wasn’t about to snap at poor Luwin. Accepting the letter, she nodded and smiled. “Thank you, Maester Luwin.”

Catelyn glanced up from her needlework. “Is it from Highgarden?” There was no small amount of hope in her voice. Sansa was due back from Oldtown a few days prior, and she had said in her last letter that she would have an answer regarding her visit to Winterfell promptly.

Daenerys flipped the letter over to see the seal of the Queen. Her stomach sank and she frowned. “No, I’m afraid not. It’s from Margaery.”

“Oh, well then let us hope that it’s interesting news at least,” Catelyn replied.

In the last few weeks, as the pregnancy was nearing its end, Catelyn had become a close companion of Daenerys. True, she had Alys and Wylla, but Lady Stark was a surprising comfort in these circumstances. And it was a chance for Daenerys to speak at length about Sansa.

Gently, Dany opened the wax seal and unfolded the letter. She scanned the lines, a small smile breaking out on her lips. She put the letter down and looked up to Catelyn. “Queen Margaery has given birth to a lovely baby girl.”

Catelyn shared Dany’s smile. “Oh, that’s wonderful. Is there any other news about the child?”

Dany looked back down at the letter. “She’s small, but oh so beautiful according to Margaery. Viserys has named her Shaera after our grandmother.”

“I was born after her death, but I do remember my father describing her as a great beauty in his stories of his time at court in King’s Landing,” Catelyn said. “With any luck, the little princess will grow up to be just as lovely.”

“Yes, perhaps,” Daenerys whispered. She put down the letter and returned to her own needlework. Sansa had always been better at it, but Dany thought the little direwolves on the hem of a new doublet for Robb looked admirable.

Her mind kept circling back to the little babe Margaery had. Dany knew her brother. And she knew how tense things probably were back in King’s Landing. With Rhaegar’s execution and her exclusion from the line of succession due to marriage, there were few options with regards to an heir. If Rhaegar had died of natural causes, Rhaenys would’ve inherited. And if Viserys did die without any children, she still would. But Rhaenys was a woman. And now Viserys had a daughter. The sooner a male child was born, the sooner the entire court could breathe again.

Dany could only imagine how angry Viserys probably was at the news of a daughter rather than a son. Her brother could be cruel at times. Not terribly so, but he had certainly tormented Daenerys and the other girls when they were little like any older brother would. And he hated not getting his way. With any luck, Margaery would have a son the next time.

Perhaps the gods had heard her and Lady Stark’s prayers, because the following day a letter from Highgarden arrived. Sansa was going to visit.

Maester Luwin cleared his throat. “Actually, I am also here to examine you,” he said.

Dany couldn’t hide her irritation. She hated being examined. Simply carrying the child was awful enough, let alone feeling it move and kick. When Luwin examined her, it was nauseating. Still, she walked back to the bedchamber and made herself comfortable on the bed.

“My lady, you are due any day now,” Maester Luwin said. He pressed gently on Dany’s belly. “The child is in the right position for birth, but has certainly decided to take his time actually coming out.”

It had grown so large she could barely walk more than a few yards without help. Part of her wondered if there was more than one of them in there. Luwin frowned, eyeing the bulge. “What is it,” Dany asked.

“I’m concerned for you. If the babe grows much larger, the birth could become… complicated.” Luwin stood and wiped his hands. “I don’t expect it to happen, but we must be prepared.”

Lady Stark stepped forward, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. “Don’t worry, Daenerys,” she said, gently stroking the young girl’s hair. “Maester Luwin is an expert.”

“I’m not worried,” Dany said. She was aware of how impetuous such a statement sounded. Of course she should be worried. Looking up to the maester, she hoisted herself into a sitting position. “What happens now?”

“You stay in that bed, and pray that the babe comes soon,” he replied. With a smile he left the room.

His words weren’t reassuring. In fact, they made her even more anxious. She didn’t like the idea of being bedridden.

* * *

The gods must have had it out for Daenerys, because she went into labor that very night. The pains started shortly after dinner. At first, she felt nauseous. Robb didn’t say a word as she tossed and turned in their bed. When the first cramp started, she cried out. It was more painful than she’d expected. Childbirth was painful and difficult yes, but no amount of description could’ve prepared her.

Robb, however, knew the cries well enough. He’d witnessed his mother entering labor when both Bran and Rickon were born.

“Daenerys, take a deep breath,” he said, holding her face in his hands as he knelt beside her. “I’m going to run and get Maester Luwin and then my mother.”

Dany nodded, tears streaming down her face. Gods, it hurt so much. She could feel liquid seeping from her into the sheets. “Please hurry, Robb.”

The several minutes she spent alone in the bedchamber seemed like hours. The first cramp faded, replaced by a dull ache. As she tried to sit up, the pain returned and she collapsed onto her back, crying out again.

The door flew open to reveal Maester Luwin. He sat down and felt around her belly. “I take back my words, my lady, this child is certainly wasting no time. Robb said this only started a few minutes ago?”

Dany nodded, gasping for breath.

Catelyn slipped in and before Dany knew it, was on the bed beside her holding her hand. Dany squeezed, a new round of tears coming.

Luwin pulled up Dany’s night shift and nudged her legs apart. “I think we are in for a short night, Lady Stark,” he said, a smile curling his lips.

Catelyn stroked Dany’s hair and then pulled a pillow under her head. “You will be fine, Daenerys, just do as he says.”

The birth took a surprisingly short amount of time. By the end, Luwin was tempted to say it was the fastest birth he’d ever attended. For one reason or another, the child wanted out quickly. Daenerys wasn’t going to argue.

When Luwin placed the child in Daenerys’s arms, she found herself smiling. “You have a son, Lady Stark.”

Dany reached into the blankets and gently brushed the baby’s cheek. “A son,” she whispered. Thank the gods it was a boy. Now that she’d produced an heir, her job was finished.

“You did beautifully,” Catelyn said, kissing the top of Dany’s head. The older woman slipped off the bed and followed Luwin out. Robb must have been right outside the door, because he was by her side seconds later.

“He’s wonderful,” Robb whispered as he took the child from Dany’s arms. “Do you have a name?”

Dany’s heart raced. No, she hadn’t even given thought to a name for the child. Nine months and she’d never once considered it. Shaking her head, she looked down at her lap. “No, I thought you should name him. He’s your son and heir.”

“And you’re his mother,” Robb said, holding the child as servants came in to change the sheets. He bounced the child gently, and Dany was sure that the smile he wore wouldn’t leave him for a year. “What about Rodrick? It’s a good Stark name.”

Dany nodded, combing her sweat-soaked hair with her fingers as she settled into the clean sheets. “That sounds nice,” was all she could manage.

Robb laid the child between them as he settled back into bed. His eyes hardly ever left the child, and while Dany knew that she loved it near as much as he did, she still felt guilty. Her first thought when hearing that she had a son was that she’d done her duty. The child wasn’t just her duty. It was more than that. It was something they made together.

“Do you love me?” she whispered, her finger gently stroking the child’s cheek.

Robb looked up at her, brow creased in confusion. “What kind of a question is that?”

Dany rolled her eyes. “You heard me. Do you love me?”

“You know I do, Daenerys.”

His words sunk deep into her, stoking the guilt. She looked up at him and chewed on her lip. “I think I love you, too.”


End file.
